


Shadowhunters 2.0. - Discovery

by enkelimagnus



Series: Shadowhunters 2.0. [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec & Izzy Parabatai, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Isabelle Lightwood, Brief Clary/Maureen, Canon Era, Canon-Compliant Racism, Canon-Typical Racism, Clave Justice System, Clave Politics, Clizzy - Freeform, Clizzy Endgame, Discrimination Against Downworlders, Downworlder Dad Magnus Bane, Downworlder Friendships, Downworlder Politics, Downworlders, F/F, F/M, Good Brother Jace Wayland, Internalized Biphobia, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Misogyny, Lesbian Clary Fray, M/M, Malec, Malec endgame, Multi, One Sided Alec Crush on Raj, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Pansexual Simon Lewis, Parabatai, Parabatai Bond, Saia - Freeform, Saia Endgame, Shadowhunters Politics, Shadowhunters Rewrite, The Clave (Shadowhunter Chronicles)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2019-11-05 00:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 126,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17908673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkelimagnus/pseuds/enkelimagnus
Summary: You know how the story goes.Clary Fray walks into a bar on the night of her birthday, following a tall blond man, and ends up meeting the love of her life, her destiny and herself.---------------------------------This is the same story, the same setting and the same players. But this time, I decide what happens, what changes, how the game is played. Who falls for who, how we see the players, the choices they make. Want a hint? Well this time, Clary Fray meets Isabelle Lightwood.Welcome to Shadowhunters 2.0. - Discovery where things are just not the same as you imagine.





	1. The Mortal Cup

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my wonderful betas: @paperiuni, @biconicfinn, @malecsmagicalarrows, and all the people who have helped me on this wonderful journey that is the Shadowhunters Rewrite. 
> 
> I have annoyed my friends to death with this, but man, I just couldn't stop talking about this while I was writing it. I cannot wait for you to discover this.
> 
> Settle in, beautiful readers, because shit is about to get gay.

March 23rd, night had fallen on New York.  The street that led to the Pandemonium club was still busy with locals and tourists, people of all kinds, going about their nightly business. 

Alec Lightwood was engrossed in the study of a basket of cantaloupes, waiting for his target to walk by him. They’d been planning this for days. Following lead after lead until they’d found this demon. Alec wasn’t really that interested in the study of the produce. It was only an act, in case his glamour failed, or in case some of the mundanes around him had the Sight.

He preferred to be left alone, left to do his job without mundanes swarming around him like flies. Besides, this was an unsanctioned mission. Something that he was very unhappy about, and wished to finish without having to deal with mundane witnesses.

And of course, the demon, now taking the form of an older Asian man, was walking towards one of the busiest clubs in the city. He would kill his parabatai and his brother the second they arrived home.

Alec started following the demon. He didn’t hesitate to jump out of sight the second the creature noticed he was following him. He knew his siblings were watching.

Isabelle Lightwood was, indeed, watching from above, following the creature, out of sight on the roof. Her heels didn’t hinder her walk on the gravel that covered the surface. She was used to fighting and walking with them.

Izzy was the one in her parabatai bond to be less likely to follow rules. The unsanctioned mission hadn’t been her idea, but she still saw no qualms in not warning the Clave that they were going out to hunt another demon. It gave her an occasion to dress up, play with a wig and some skin-tight white latex clothing, as well as an opportunity to attend a party at Pandemonium.

That club was known through the entire Shadow World for its endless nights of dancing, drinking, and pleasure. It was owned by Magnus Bane, a very powerful warlock, known for his taste for parties and luxury. Izzy liked the man already.

She wasn’t much of a party girl herself, but it was the kind of place and atmosphere she craved. She was young after all. She was twenty and ready to be in a crowd of young people, dancing the night away, unaware of the horrors of the world around them.

She and Alec joined up with their brother, Jace, a tall blond guy that was the definition of blandly handsome. She exchanged a look with her parabatai, and the grumpiness in Alec’s eyes almost made her laugh. She knew he hated unsanctioned missions. Alec liked order. He took comfort in it. She knew it because she felt it, on the other end of her rune.

They jumped off the roof and into the street, and followed the demon —now glamoured as a young woman dressed for clubbing —towards the entrance of Pandemonium.

Her long coat hid perfectly well the latex ensemble she wore.

They were almost at the entrance, passing by a tagged van, and a bunch of young people laughing and enjoying themselves, when Jace bumped into one of them.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

She was small, young, red-haired. Izzy and Alec exchanged another look, and decided to let him deal with the problem alone. It was almost a habit. Jace would bump into a mundane while he was glamoured, and if the person didn’t have the Sight, he would have to deal with incoherent flailing and possible punches.

They walked into the club without anyone stopping them, and no remorse for leaving Jace to deal with the mundane. If they had stopped to help him out, they would have lost their lead, anyway.

 

**_Six Hours Earlier_ **

 

Simon Lewis was sitting at his usual table at Java Jones, going over some song lyrics for something he was writing. He didn’t know much what the song was going to end up being about. Not a love song. Maybe a friendship song. Yeah, that could be fun. A song about him and Clary. Best friends forever. 

Many thought that he was in love with her, but that was far from the truth. He loved Clary like a sister and a best friend, and the mere idea of loving her romantically made him uncomfortable. He knew she felt the same way.

He was waiting for her to come back from her audition at the Brooklyn Academy of Art. There was no ounce of doubt in his mind that she was made for the Academy, and that if they refused her, it would be the biggest mistake of their lives.

So when he saw her walk into the coffee shop with a downward face and sad eyes, the first thing he thought was ‘murder’.

“Give me the professors’ names and I, I will end them,” he promised as Clary plopped down on the chair, putting down her portfolio. It made no sense. Clary looked at him.  “You know, with a scathing email to the dean!” he rectified.

She looked so defeated that he WOULD have ended them. No one needed to have their dreams destroyed on their birthday. Or ever, for that matter. Simon reached for the letter she’d put down on the table. It was the convocation for the audition. There was probably the stamp of rejection on it, big glaring red.

There was something red, big and glaring on the letter, indeed. But it was the word “Congratulations.” Damn you, Clary Fray.

“Whaaat?” He looked up at her. She had that mischievous, proud of herself look in the eyes. She only got that when she pranked him, or when she managed to get a woman’s number. “Sad face. Really?” She nodded, a chuckle on her lips. “Well played, well played.”

They bumped fists. Simon had never really gone from murderous to proud quite that fast. Usually he needed a moment of confusion in between.

“Yeah it’s weird, they kinda liked my assigned work, but they  _ flipped out _ over drawings for our graphic novel!” Clary chuckled excitedly.  

Simon grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“This day will go down as the greatest eighteenth birthday I ever had!” Clary was just so…. happy. She was the happiest she’d ever been. She was going to her dream school. It was like her life was finally going on the right track.

The waitress put the lattes Simon had ordered for them, as well as two biscotti on the table in front of them.

“This is why we’re celebrating tonight. With Maureen after our show.”

“Absolutely!” Clary grinned. Ah. good music, her friends, and Maureen in particular. Clary was so happy that she was honestly thinking about asking the other girl out. She’d been making heart-eyes at the other girl for days.

“So… what’s the deal with you and Maureen?” Simon asked.

“What? No, no, nothing, we just, you know. I’m a friend,” Clary mumbled as she put down her biscotti on the table.

“You seriously don’t know she’s been crushing on you this whole time?” Simon teased and Clary rolled her eyes at him. “Clary, how can someone as smart as you not realize something like that?”

“I just… girls. Crushes… It’s all kind new, and I never know if they  _ like _ like me. Or if they like me like a friend,” she muttered and reached for the snack she’d put down.

She couldn’t find it. Instead, there was a drawing of one, perfectly shaded and incredibly realistic. She looked back at her cup, and the lack of biscotti next to it. The confusion must have been obvious enough on her face because Simon informed her teasingly that her cup was full of latte.

“But I could have sworn I had a biscotti.”

“Maybe you ate it really fast and didn’t even notice. Happens to me all the time,” Simon pointed out. “When I’m happy… When I’m sad…” Clary chuckled at the exaggerated smile then pout he made. “But I will replace your mystical biscotti with an actual one.” He smiled and gave her the snack he hadn’t eaten.

“Thank you.” She smiled softly and took a small bite of it. “And thanks for telling me I got a ticket with Maureen. Maybe I’ll get my first girlfriend thanks to you as well.”

“Ah, I did nothing. She just likes cute artsy lesbians like you. And you know what?” Simon said and took his cup in his hand. “You got into art school. You’re gonna get a date with the hottest girl in our senior year. You’re the hero here, my friend. Here’s to you. L’Chaim!”

“L’Chaim,” she replied, and they cheered.

 

\--------

 

A couple hours later, and Clary was getting comfortable on one of the sofas of Java Jones, waiting for Simon and Maureen to start their gig. 

Clary could understand why her mom was so worried. It was true that there had been some murders recently. And Luke,—her mother’s boyfriend and Clary’s only father figure—worked with the police, close enough to the murders that they would become a bit paranoid.

Seven people drained of blood, it was weird really, but Clary wasn’t going alone, and she wasn’t going to go on insane adventures on her own. It was just the concert of Simon’s band, and maybe hanging around the clubs.

The little squad enjoyed people watching, and club-people-watching was their favorite. Couples, singles, groups of friends and others. All dressed differently, all with different motives. They could sit for hours and make up the lives of these people. 

It would be perfect to get her mind off of how strange Luke and her mom had been. How strange this whole “family heirloom” was. She didn’t know her mother had relatives. She didn’t know the Frays had heirlooms, let alone weird paperweight things with strange carvings. It was all so ominous.

Clary had better things to think about. It was her eighteenth birthday. She’d just gotten into the Brooklyn Academy of Art for an advanced class, for the following year. She exchanged a look with Maureen. The other young woman was wearing a sleeveless jean jacket over her dress and her hair was braided so only one side was free and curly.

She smiled at Clary and Clary smiled back. It was comfortable. It was perfect. Everything was going perfect. Soon, she would have a girlfriend and a place amongst the brightest artists of her generation.

Clary listened as Simon and Maureen gave their concert, singing a few songs to a young and appreciative crowd. Cappuccinos were being drunk, and people were mouthing the lyrics to the covers that Rock Solid Panda (the new name of the band, replacing Champagne Enema) was performing.

When they walked out, some more time after, Maureen slipped her hand in Clary’s, and Clary felt her heart beat faster and her cheeks heat up. Maureen gave her a smile, it was bright and wonderful, and perfect. They walked to where they had parked Simon’s van, and climbed onto the roof.

Simon and Maureen sang more, this time only with Simon’s guitar, and Clary savored the night, and the way Maureen was leaning against her. New York night was loud. The part of night next to the entrances of the biggest clubs in the city was almost day.

It was Pandemonium, the biggest of all of them. Clary had heard Luke talk about it from time to time, talk about creatures of the night in there, clubbers that lost themselves in music and alcohol and other people’s bodies. Sometimes, she wondered about it. Clubbing. Pandemonium, and the instinctive pull it seemed to operate on her, like she wanted to know more about the people inside of it, lose herself in its darkness.

She was distracted from her staring at the dark entrance of the club under the bright red neon sign that read Pandemonium by Maureen’s enquiry about her stele. She sat and grinned, the pull and the curiosity forgotten entirely, erased from her mind in the blink of an eye.

“I don’t even know. My mom has been so overprotective lately.”

“Do you remember in Aliens, when the alien queen was defending her eggs from Ripley?” Simon interjected.

Clary rolled her eyes. Simon continued his explanation of how Jocelyn - Clary’s mom - was both the alien and Ripley, defending her young against some strange shadowy threat.

“Besides, I don’t really know much about when she was young…” 

“Well, do what I do, and get the dirt from your relatives,” Maureen pointed out, playing with her bracelet before looking back at Clary. In the weird neon light of the club, she looked beautiful and it made Clary smile wider.

“I would if I could, but she doesn’t have any. No siblings, my father died when I was young… just me and my mom.”

“So a whole lot of questions.”

“I don’t really care, usually.” Clary shrugged. “It’s not like she would hide something from me.”

“And she has us!” Simon exclaimed. “That’s why at every Passover seder, the Lewis clan has added three more chairs to the table, since pre-school. Clary, Jocelyn, and of course, Elijah.”

“Of course.”

“Yes, obviously.”

They both remembered the year where Simon had had a boyfriend named Elijah for a couple of weeks before the seder. It had added even more to the recurring Elijah joke of the Passover seders.

They all fell silent for a while, the deep pulsing of the music in the club occupying their thoughts. Clary eventually grew tired of the silence and pushed herself off the roof of the van, lending quite swiftly on her feet.

“Well, damn, Fray, that was smooth,” Maureen called out, and soon landed next to her. “Thanks for being our roadie.”

“And thanks for being our artist in residence,” Simon added before joining them.

“Anyway. Rock Solid Panda, right?” Clary asked as she grabbed the cans of paint from the back of the van. “I’m feeling inspired.”

As Clary was tagging the side of Simon’s van with the new logo for their band, Alec, Izzy and Jace were making their way from the Institute to Pandemonium. They bickered, following their target from afar, with Alec’s ever growing annoyance.

Jace thought that the mundane was going to move. After all, her two friends had already moved out of the way, and usually, glamours almost subconsciously kept mundanes from even looking where he could have been, let alone touch him.

He was surprised when the girl called him out, asking him to watch where he was going, but not at all when Alec and Izzy barely said anything to him. They were all used to this after all. He turned back to the girl. She was cute, short, red-headed, and her voice was trying to be firm, but she seemed so… meek. 

“You can see me?” Ah fuck, awesome. It was a Sighted one. It was weird; he thought all the Sighted mundanes were registered.

“Obviously, but you didn’t really seem to realize I was there. Maybe don’t bump into people?” she replied, crossing her arms and raising a questioning eyebrow.

“You have the Sight.”

“Wait, the what?” She looked at him suddenly like he was going insane, and he rolled his eyes. He was supposed to know who she was, and the database he’d memorized when he’d first been dispatched here was… coming up empty on her.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Simon was watching. And he was… starting to question whether or not Clary was sober. She was talking to the air. Having a conversation with nothing. An argument even.

Eventually, Jace was called back inside by Alec, but the impression that he should have known that girl didn’t leave him, even as he turned away and followed his siblings.

Though Jace was not paying her any attention anymore, Clary was just... Nothing made sense. Simon and Maureen had not seen the tall blond guy that had so rudely bumped into her, and had yet to apologize, and she wanted to know what the fuck was going on. And it was a good excuse to get into the club.

She stripped off the bright green hoodie that was covering the skimpy top that Dot - her mother’s assistant at the antiquities shop that she owned - had gifted to her for her birthday. Clary threw it back into the van and barely answered Simon’s questions, as she dashed towards the entrance of the club. Surprisingly, she was let in without much fuss.

Alec, Izzy and Jace smoothly moved into the crowd of the club. Izzy took a deep breath, taking in the less than pleasant smell, and the warmth of the place. Her eyes scanned body after body, taking in the contents of the glasses they had in hand. Many had tall wine glasses that seemed to be quite expensive. Izzy wondered why she was so surprised. This was Magnus Bane’s property after all. From what she’d heard, he could afford such glasses. She needed to come back here on a night off, if she ever had one.

The demon stopped in front of two men wearing suits, but the Shadowhunters did not see that. One person who noticed though, was the owner of the club.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

Magnus Bane was old and - especially when it came to genocidal maniacs - tired of Shadowhunter bullshit. He had better to do usually than police what was going on in the crowded dance floor. He had drinks and people around him, gorgeous beings that deserved more attention from him than whatever the mundanes were up to in his club. 

He was sipping on yet another martini, head bumping slightly to the beat of the inane noise he was using as a soundtrack to fun. He could feel the warmth and heaviness of alcohol curling into his bones, and he was happy with it. He didn’t want to have to worry about anything else. Unfortunately, the universe had other plans for him. It never really left him on his own to do what he wanted, there was always someone or something to bother him, and today it was two Circle members.

He stood up from the couch he was comfortably lounging in, surrounded by a court of Shadow People begging for attention or favors, all ideas of leisure forgotten to a deeply seated kind of anger. He’d known the Circle was probably still half alive somewhere. After all, so many members had barely gotten any punishment for what they’d done, and what they’d been planning. The Clave had put them on trial for what they had done to the institution of nephili power, not for the genocide of Shadow People they’d been planning.

Magnus had just hoped they weren’t doing anything harmful anymore, just having meetings where they grumbled about the good old days and Valentine’s leadership. And yet here they were. With their Circle runes, and their suits, and in his club, conducting some unsavory business. That would not do.

He sighed under his breath and put his mask of protectiveness on. They couldn’t know he didn’t really care about them being here. They had to think he was ready to defend his territory. In reality, all he wanted was to go back to the couch, to his cocktail, and go home with one of the delightful people that were begging for a taste.

Magnus approached them, surprising the two men who had not heard or seen him coming. “Circle members aren’t welcome in my club,” he said.

There was a flash of nervousness in the eyes of the man and it made him smirk. It was interesting really, how their fear had dissolved into disgust. Nephilim were all so human, after all. Terrified of people different than them, ready to believe a fear-mongering doctrine without doubt…

“No worries, warlock, it’s all ancient history.”

Not from the looks of it. Or from the tone of the man when he said “warlock”. Magnus sighed.

“To me, it was like the blink of an eye.”

Another nervous look from the two men as he dropped his glamour and his eyes shone golden, cat-like, testimony to his demonic parentage. Magnus did enjoy the fear in these people’s eyes. The fact he liked it so much worried him sometimes.

The other Circle member considered Magnus distracted by his conversation with his partner, and took a step forward, an obvious aggression in his eyes and in his demeanor. Magic took care of it, Magnus letting it wrap around the man’s throat as he kept eye contact with the one he’d been talking to. How rude to try to interrupt him.

Power roared through his veins, almost glad to be released after so long with so little use, pushing him further into hurting the man he had at his mercy. It worked like a noose around the Shadowhunter’s neck, pulling him up and choking him.

Magnus kept his eyes fixed on the one that was free, as the other’s neck made a loud cracking noise.

“We’ve endured worse.” The man’s voice was choked and airy, and Magnus rolled his eyes.

“You’ve inflicted worse,” he corrected, tone dripping with pure disdain. The animosity in the Circle member’s eyes pierced through his glasses. Sunglasses at night. That somehow made him even more of an asshole. “Leave,” Magnus ordered, letting go of the one he’d been… torturing? That was too strong of a word, wasn’t it?

The two men retreated, and so Magnus sighed, stretching his arms a little and straightening his suit jacket. That was the most exciting thing that had happened in his life lately. What a shame. New York was getting… somewhat less enjoyable these days. It made him feel a bit old and useless, just buzzing around, fucking and drinking. Maybe it was time to move? Get away from it all and from the Circle members. He didn’t need much more of them in his life.

Japan could be fun? He could get an apartment there, and go for a week or so, prep the terrain for his arrival. Or not. Stay, be the High Warlock of Brooklyn, that title that he lived and breathed. Stay amongst friends, and stay the one people loved. He sighed. He would decide tomorrow. For now, there was a martini for him to finish.

 

\-----------------------------

 

Clary had found her way in the club. She’d followed the blond guy that had bumped into her, and though there were quite a number of the same kind of guys around the dancefloor, she’d managed to stick to him. 

She didn’t know why she was acting like this. She wasn’t the most perfect of teenagers, but she hadn’t really ever walked into Pandemonium. It was one of those clubs that was both incredibly popular, and full of the most interesting alternative-looking people. It was not Clary’s crowd, and yet, she hadn’t hesitated for a single second before following the man, and getting deeper into the place that had been calling her all evening.

From the corner of her eye, she saw things that her brain couldn’t really explain. A flash of blue lights from the hands of a tall man, green eyes that shone brighter than lamps on a woman. 

The blond man walked behind the curtains of the VIP section, quickly followed by a woman with a long coat and a short white wig, and a taller man with dark hair. It took Clary a few seconds to decide to grab the attention of some guy that was walking into the secluded area. He was tall and well-built, she complimented his biceps and the contacts that made his eyes shine in an unnatural way.

Within seconds, she was behind the curtains. And there she stopped, forgetting how to breathe.

There was a woman dancing. She hadn’t seen her before, but the white wig on the floor made it obvious it was the girl that had followed the blond man. She was… the most beautifully perfect woman Clary had ever seen.

Her outfit left relatively little to the imagination, and Clary just couldn’t help but let her eyes roam from her dark flowy hair to her high heels, following the curves of the woman’s body. She was muscular, yes, but curvy too, striking that point of balance that Clary drooled over on instagram accounts. She was but a weak gay.

The woman was moving slowly, body snaking to the beat of the music playing in the club, and Clary was mesmerized. So fascinated that she almost didn’t see it.

The blond man had a sword-thing in his hands and was about to hurt a woman.

“Watch out!” she screamed and launched herself towards them, pushing the innocent woman out of the way of the blond guy. What the fuck was going on?

And it all went to shit from there.

The woman Clary had pushed out of the way was a monster. Her mouth opened in four mandibles, ready to grab and tear away at flesh, and she attacked the blond immediately. Clary was thrown back, sliding down on the floor as the armed man started fighting the monster.

Alec was not surprised that it was turning sour. It was his luck that unsanctioned missions often did. And now there was some teenage mundane in the mix. Perfect. Just perfect. He came out of the shadowy corner he’d hidden in until then and grabbed an arrow.

The two demons that were about to lunge at Jace and the mundane both got their due, Izzy’s whip wrapping around one of them while Alec hit the other with a well-placed arrow. They exchanged looks and grabbed their seraph blades, launching themselves into the fight, to keep the mundane alive and Jace as unharmed as they could.

Six demons, three of them, one mundane. The odds weren’t that bad. They’d done worse definitely, but Alec was still grumpy from the number of rules they were breaking. He knew Izzy was enjoying herself. She liked fighting, she’d always liked it, and he could feel her smugness through their bond.

They both twirled through their assailants, landing hit after hit. What was good about seraph blades was that they didn’t need to bother with aiming too much. One wound, and the demons disintegrated. They just had to aim so it landed on their bodies.

Alec saw Jace dealing with the mundane from the corner of his eye and nodded. It was what they usually did when they wanted to function as a team. Jace or Izzy would take care of mundanes. The two others would go through the demons.

Izzy called for him and he only had time to turn around, and grab the end of her whip, mid way through her using it. He felt the metal turn more rigid in his grip, the whip turning into a staff. One of the demons was precipitated towards it, hitting the weapon full force, and the blow was enough to disorient it. Alec let go of the whip and plunged his seraph blade in the demon.

Both of them went back to individual fighting again, but their bond kept them in synch, naturally. Alec was faster and Izzy was stronger, benefiting from the other’s skills.

When they turned back towards Jace, they caught sight of the mundane running out of the VIP area, a look of complete horror on her face. Alec rolled his eyes.

“It was the mundane I bumped into. She’s Sighted,” Jace pointed out.

Alec nodded. “Well, you take care of it. Izzy and I are going to try and see if there’s anyone else that could know something, so we at least have something to bring back to the Institute, and to the Clave, when they ask why the fuck we went out on an unsanctioned mission.”

Clary just wanted to get out of there. She hadn’t thought this was the kind of thing that happened in those clubs. She just wanted to run from those insane people. Killers. Those were killers.

In her haste to get out of the club, she collided pretty violently with a man that was in her way. Tall, Asian, wearing makeup and vaguely familiar in a way that she didn’t want to really think about right now. No time to ask questions, to him or to herself. Just running. She turned away to leave but her brain wouldn’t let go of the face of the man. She saw yellow eyes, and blue power. She shook her head to get the image away but it didn’t leave her mind.

There was a cab in front of the door of the club, and she thanked every god she could think of for it. She jumped in, and almost shouted a panicked “Drive.’ The driver drove away, and only when she managed to get herself to think again did she give him her home address. 

 

\-----------------

 

Clary landed on the floor of the precinct’s hall. Nothing made sense anymore. The battle, her mother and Dot acting so strangely. How Jocelyn had pushed her through the weird purple cloud of energy Dot had created. The fear, the panic, and the soldier stance that had taken over her mother so immediately, when she’d… revealed herself. Her mother was one of the killers from the club. She was… what, part of some kind of gang? A cult? 

This couldn’t be happening, right? This really couldn’t be happening, she’d probably fallen asleep while listening to Maureen and Simon talk on the roof of the van, right? That was the only explanation that made sense.

_ Circle members.  _ That made no sense either. Circle of what? Why did they want to hurt her mother? Was the Circle a rival gang? Why was all of this happening? Why tonight?  _ You’re eighteen now and you need to know the truth.  _ And that weird necklace thing around her neck. A big purple stone… the same purple as the energy thing that had brought her here.

“Clary?” Luke’s boss was coming up the stairs. Captain Vargas was a nice woman who Clary had gotten to know from all the times she would have to wait for Luke to drive her home instead of going alone, and the occasional “bring your kid to work” day. “It’s two in the morning, what are you doing here so late?”

Clary mumbled, scrambling for an answer. “Luke!” she eventually managed. “He told me to come by so he could drive me home.”

“Still doesn’t trust those cabbies, huh? Alright. Well, he’s in the middle of an interview. Could take a while,” Captain Vargas warned.

“Cool… I’ll just… you know, wait in the cafeteria, as usual.” Clary nodded before she started walking towards the cafeteria. Before she was out of the woman’s view though, the captain called out for her.

“Hey, is everything okay? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Shit, shit, shit, Clary could not withstand one of Vargas’ interrogations and she knew it. Fortunately for her, the woman supplied her with an excuse before she could fumble too much.

“Yes. Guy trouble… something like that…”

That was perfect. Vargas knew Clary was gay, but this answer would either pass as Clary not wanting to do some public acknowledgment of her sexuality, or her being afraid of some guy that would be pursuing her despite her lack of attraction to his gender.

They bid each other goodbye, and Clary pretended to walk to the cafeteria. For a moment, she wondered whether she should just sit on one of the blue plastic chairs and wait, but it was rather urgent. Her mom was probably fighting for her life, whatever that meant, and she was supposed to go see Luke.

She walked towards the staircase that led to where Luke’s desk was. A storm had started outside. She got down a few of the steps before being able to peer over the ramp and see Luke.

A man was talking to him, and a woman was sitting on his desk in a threateningly nonchalant manner. Luke wasn’t facing her, but she could feel how tense everything was. It didn’t seem like Luke was interviewing anyone, but rather that he was the one being interviewed. Clary listened in.

“The minute we found out Jocelyn Fairchild was still alive, you were easy to track.”  _ Fairchild?  _ “Turns out you and Jocelyn are never that far apart.”  _ Nothing makes sense, everything is scary, why are they saying that and why was my mom supposed to be dead?  _ “The Circle has her now, it’s only a matter of time before we catch the daughter.”

The daughter was her. They had her mom. These weird people, who were threatening Luke, had her mom, and they were chasing her? Panic and fear started rising inside of Clary like a tidal wave.

“You can have them both, if you give up the Mortal Cup,” The woman offered.

The Mortal Cup? Clary didn’t remember her mom saying anything about that. And what was a cup worth, really?

“I don’t care about either of them,” Luke said, and Clary almost screamed at that. Not Luke. Anyone but Luke, why was he saying that? “They mean nothing to me.” It felt like a knife in the heart, and Clary gasped audibly at that, the pain making her forget she wasn’t safe.

Luke kept going. “Keep them both if you like. My people want the cup. Why do you think I’ve been hanging around here all these years.”

Eighteen years worth of laughter and bed time stories and birthdays turned to ash in Clary’s mind. This didn’t make sense, but nothing had made sense since she’d walked into that club. Clary barely listened after that, her mind not catching much outside of Luke wanting to keep the “cup” or whatever that was to himself and not give it to some guy called Valentine. She let herself sit on the floor. Everything hurt. Nothing made sense.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to go home and see her mom and… _ Mom _ . They had said they had her. Her mom… No. She wasn’t safe.

She stood up and ran away as fast as she could, into the stormy night. By the time she was down the stairs that led to the precinct’s entrance, she was already soaked to the bone.

 

\------------------------

 

Clary woke up with a start, sitting up in an almost cartoonish way, and bumping violently with the person that was looking over her sleep. She paid little to no mind to them though, as her mind reminded her of everything that had happened. 

Her deserted home, and burnt bedroom, and the searing pain and fear - that were coming back already - when she’d realized her mom was gone and she was alone, totally alone. Luke didn’t care about her. Her mom was gone. Dot… Dot was a monster. She had no one.

And her dream… the man that had been looking at her sleeping mother, the threat in everything he was. The pain, and the weird burn on her mother’s neck. Nothing made sense. She clutched more at the necklace.

“Ow.” The person she’d bumped against said, and Clary came back to Earth.

“Wait, I don’t know you.” Clary mumbled and moved backwards. Strange person. Strange bed. A headache. That weird blond guy and his strange words and the creature that had attacked her. Where was she?

“I’m Isabelle. Jace brought you in.” The woman - Isabelle - said.

Clary ignored the rest of the things she was saying. She was lying on a small bed, in the middle of what seemed like an infirmary. The woman was sitting on her bed. She’d been waiting for her to wake up. Why?  The entire room was cathedral like, with vitrails on the wall, and the ceiling much higher than it seemed, above the lamps.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Who’s Jace?”

“I thought he would have had the idea to introduce himself. Blond guy? Tall, has runes…” Isabelle pointed at the black tattoos on her skin. Clary blinked. They were the same as the ones of the killers from the club. The same as her mother’s.

She moved backwards again. “I don’t know anything. I don’t have any info I can tell you. About anything. All I know is that some psychos have taken my mother, and now you… you have taken me.” She promised. Something about this entire situation was terrifying. Was her mother and her caught in a gang war?

“By taken, I think you mean saved your life?” Isabelle asked.

No, she didn’t mean that, no. She’d been attacked by a thing, and she’d passed out; and now she was here, she wasn’t wearing her own clothes, and some strange woman had watched her sleep, it seemed more like a kidnapping than anything.

Clary didn’t have time to reply, as two men - one being the blond guy from earlier - walked into the room.

“The mundane shouldn’t even be here.” One of them - the dark-haired one - said.

“Where even is here, exactly?”

Isabelle let Jace and Alec keep bickering, and do all of the info-dumping. She could feel Alec was uncomfortable. She could feel he was on edge. He was always a little stressed out, and she’d learned to tune it out, but this was too much, even for her.

Clary Fray looked more afraid by the minute. The way Jace was sitting on her bed seemed to make her even less comfortable, so Isabelle took the matter into her own hands.

“You two. Let’s leave our guest some more time to recuperate. She’s been through enough.” She ordered, and stood up. “Alec, Jace, let’s go.”

She went and took Alec’s arm to pull him away from the confrontation and towards the main hall. She felt Alec slightly relax under her touch. He was still wearing his vest, and still seemed ready for action, and she sighed, turning towards him.

“You can take it off, you know? We’re home, right now.”

“We don’t know this girl,” Alec immediately started rambling, walking a bit faster. “There's no such thing as new Shadowhunters.”

“There is now. I know it’s weird, but the _ iratze _ didn’t kill her.” Izzy pointed out. She saw Jace leave right after them, and he passed them by. She gave him a small smile, and turned her attention back to her parabatai.

“I’m just pissed that she’s ruined the mission. We never found out who’s buying the blood. It was already unsanctioned, but it would all have been manageable if it had been successful. Now all we have is a… new Shadowhunter and ichor. It was our one job, and we failed it.” He snapped, and shoved her hand away, walking out.

Isabelle closed her eyes tightly for a second. The sense of duty had always been strong in the entire family, but the more they grew, the bigger the place it took in Alec’s world. Sometimes, she wondered if their relationship, their bond, wasn’t born out of that rather than mutual love and respect.

She’d always adored her brother. From her first memory of him to this second, and Isabelle knew that he loved her back, but some days, it was harder to feel. All he seemed to express was frustration and stress, and hatred. She wished she could help, but he shut her out, most days. All she could do was give him love through their bond, as much as possible.

She knew he didn’t have it easy. She knew he felt things that he didn’t feel were right… or ones that he didn’t feel he could express. She saw him look at men the same way she looked at them. She saw his crush on Raj, another Shadowhunter of their age group that worked with them. She just wished he felt like he could talk about it.

Isabelle went to grab some clothes for Clary from her wardrobe. She didn’t really think about what to pick. Then, she made her way back to the infirmary, and knocked on the door, before getting in.

“Hey,” she said softly. “I’m sorry for the two of them.” Clary nodded and gathered the sheets a little closer to herself. Izzy took a chair out and sat down next to the bed. “I know you have questions. Do you want me to answer them, now?”

“Who are you people?”

“We’re Shadowhunters,” Izzy started. “Angelic warriors, fighting demons, and keeping the mundanes, everyone else, safe.”

“So what, you have magical powers? Is this how you healed me?”

Izzy smiled at the curiosity peeking through the tone of the young woman. She still looked scared, but less so. Izzy observed her curiously as well. It was rare she could really talk to people outside of the Institute. There was Meliorn, maybe, and other Downworlders, but this particular girl was… so interesting.

“We don’t have magic. There are people out there, that we call Downworlders, that do. They are demon-blooded. And some of them, like warlocks or seelies, have magic. What we have is angelic blood. And runes.” She pointed again at the marks on her skin.

“So if you’re protecting humans… why were you killing them, at the club?” Clary asked, hugging her knees to her chest.

Izzy resisted the urge to wrap her in her arms and tell her everything would be okay. “They weren’t people. They were demons, like the one who attacked you at your apartment.”

She saw the woman’s face immediately turn to pain and sadness, and Izzy let her take her time before she asked again. “What does that have to do with me?”

“We don’t know exactly. What we know, is that you’re a Shadowhunter, like us. The blood of the angel Raziel flows through your veins, which means one of your parents probably is a Shadowhunter.”

“My parents” Clary muttered. She looked up a second later, eyes wide. “My mom. She was taken… by some people… some bad people. The Circle or something like that. I need to find her.” 

Izzy froze. The Circle? That… group of rogue shadowhunters? Why would they be going after this girl and her mother? What did Clary Fray have that they didn’t know? She mumbled a promise about helping the girl with her mom, and was about to ask for more information on what exactly had happened, when Clary’s phone rang.

Clary grabbed her phone on the bedside table, and saw the name of her best friend on the screen. Fuck. She’d forgotten Simon entirely. And Maureen. And everything else. Flustered, she took the call.

“How come you haven’t answered your phone in two days?” Simon said, not bothering with a hello. Clary knew he was probably worried out of his mind.

“I’m sorry I just… it’s been a mess.”

“Where are you? Find My Friends says your phone is in an abandoned church on Deighton. I'm outside.” 

Clary rushed to the window, and thankfully, it was facing the right direction and she saw Simon standing outside, under the light of one of the streetlamps, his van next to him. Two days… she had been out for two days. No wonder Simon was out of his mind with worry. She sighed.

“I see you.” She whispered, relief flooding her for a reason she couldn’t explain. Simon. Simon was here.

“I don’t see you!”, he replied.

She’d forgotten about that. She took a deep breath, already turning around to look for her stuff. “Give me five minutes, I have to get dressed.” She was only wearing some big grey t-shirt that fell right under her butt.

“Dressed? What are you doing undressed in an abandoned church? Clary, is there a meth problem we have to talk about?”

Clary waved the concern off and repeated she would be there as fast as possible, before ending the call and turning to the woman - Isabelle. She was immediately given a pile of clothes.

“Your clothes got burnt by demon venom. It’s quite acidic, and it burnt holes through everything. Sorry about that. Here’s some of my stuff.” Isabelle explained. Clary thanked her.

She started unfolding the clothes and stopped for a second. High-heeled boots, the kind that made Clary fear for her ankles, a skirt and a top, both leathery. She turned back towards the woman.

“Sorry… I forgot you might not be comfortable. I have other stuff if you want, I could-”

“No, that’s fine, nevermind.” Clary said, and started dressing.

Izzy turned around to leave her some privacy. Clary was a beautiful girl, and Izzy had always been partial to the beauty of women’s bodies, but this wasn’t the time or the place.

“Sorry, again, for the mark on your neck. Rune. It’s an iratze, a simple healing rune.”

Clary sighed. “Okay. It would have been better with permission but okay.” She muttered, mostly to herself. She would have a lot to explain to Simon. The clothes, the new weird neck tattoo. 

Izzy followed her, guiding her through the main room of the Institute back to the entrance. She made sure to undo the glamour first, so no one would ask to many questions as to why Clary was talking to herself. She grabbed a seraph blade on the way, eliciting a concerned remark from the girl. Izzy made sure to reassure her. Protection only.

“What do you have on?” Simon mumbled, eyes wide, when Clary walked out of the Institute. Izzy bit her lip. She had not thought that one through at all.

She let the two others talk, keeping her eyes open. And she was good to be vigilant, because someone took advantage of the fact they were outside of the warded walls of the Institute.

A Circle member, that Izzy was quick to disarm and kill. So they were back. And they wanted Clary. So much that Izzy suspected it wouldn’t be long until they decided to attack the Institute.

“What’s happening?” Simon muttered, fear and shock written all over his features.

“We can explain everything from inside, okay?” Izzy said, and went to grab Clary by the waist and pull her up the stairs. “Follow us, mundane!” She called after Simon.

“I’ve seen that guy before. At the police station.”

“A Circle member. One of the people who took your mother, if you’re right. Your friend led him right to you. We should get inside before others try to capture or kill you, as well.” Izzy replied. “Don’t worry, we’ve got this.”

“And who are you guys exactly? There’s a dead body, it’s a job for the police, we have to call Luke!” Simon panicked.

The reminder of Luke’s betrayal sent another sharp pain in Clary’s heart. “We can’t trust Luke… we can’t.” her voice was small, and Izzy’s arm wrapped a little tighter around her.

“Really, we can have this conversation inside, guys, okay?” She pointed out. “We’ll help you find your mother, Clary, but inside?”

“Clary, we’ll be safer in your apartment. We’ll get help, no worries, but maybe you should come home, rather than… go in there?”

Clary didn’t know what to do. She could follow this girl, and get back inside of this insane military base, or follow Simon and go home. She had no home to go back to, though. All she had was a burnt down bedroom, and an empty apartment, shards of glass on the floor, and a puddle of blood in front of the door.

Maybe it would be better to follow the girl. Isabelle.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 2 - The Descent Into Hell Isn't Easy!
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	2. The Descent Into Hell Isn't Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> Today's chapter is The Descent Into Hell Isn't Easy... Clary learns more about who she is, and who the Shadowhunters are. 
> 
> And of course, it's gay!
> 
> Enjoy!

Izzy pushed open the door of the old church, dragging the mundane and Clary inside as quickly as she could. They didn’t have much time. Between the mundane cops, and the Circle still around… She was about to walk deeper into the Institute but realized that the mundane probably wasn’t seeing what they were seeing. 

She’d forgotten about the wards and glamours around the place. She’d forgotten that any mundane that walked through those doors would see an empty place. The wards gave off a kind of repulsive energy. Mundanes that approached the building usually never went closer, because of the wards telling them they shouldn’t. The magic put suggestions into their minds. 

She grabbed her stele, and drew the Sharing rune on her arm, sighing softly. She felt pain, as usual, but she’d gotten used to the burn of runes a long time ago. The mundane seemed to be worried, and Izzy guessed she understood. She was burning her own skin to activate runes. The rune stopped hurting and became black, and Izzy turned to him. 

“Can I have your hand?” she asked with a smile. 

The mundane nodded after a second, and she took his hand. The look on his face as he discovered the true appearance of the Institute made Izzy wonder what it was like to discover her world for the first time. 

“Where are we?” the man muttered. “What the hell…” 

“This is the Institute.” Izzy shrugged and started walking towards the ops centre. 

“Clary, is there a war going on that I don’t know about?” 

“There’s always been one,” Izzy replied, knowing Clary wouldn’t have any answers. “The War between Angels and Demons. And we’re the soldiers in it.” 

The man eventually followed her and Clary as they walked in. Alec and Jace were looking over some files and data at one of the desks, and she nodded at Jace when she walked by. Alec looked over for a couple of seconds, locking eyes with her but said nothing. 

“What is this place? There's a lot of gear in here. What'd they do, rob a tech shop?” the mundane babbled on as Izzy went to talk to Alec. 

She let Jace take over the conversation, as she tried to explain what was going on before Alec exploded. Jace pulled up the live video from the cameras outside of the Institute, showing the mundane cops asking to get in. 

As Simon looked around the room, he saw these big screens with words he didn’t necessarily understand displayed on them. Well, he understood them, but he didn’t know what they meant in this context.  _ Demonic activity focus points. Bleeder dens. Leyline energy levels. _ There was an entire panel that seemed right out of a movie about a catastrophe happening in a nuclear reactor, with ratios, and temperatures, and graphs, and charts, and monitoring of energetic activity. A man walked by with a box full of swords that were covered in weird goo.

“So what, we can trust these… soldier people? These killers?” he asked. 

“They aren’t killers. They are protecting us,” Clary replied. 

Simon was starting to get worried. Clary wasn’t acting normally. She was dressed in clothes that she normally wouldn’t even think of putting on, she was trusting these people as if she’d spent the last two days being indoctrinated. 

“Specifically you. It’s sort of our thing,” Jace replied, not really paying attention. 

“Thing? You guys have a thing?”

“A Shadowhunter thing.” Clary hummed. 

“Soldiers of the Angels thing?” Simon added again. What the fuck. Why was Clary this calm? “Because of course. Angels and demons, that makes a lot of sense. Clary, can I talk to you alone?” 

Clary was about to reply when a tall man approached, already seeming unhappy, and staring at Simon in a way that made Simon want to be very, very small. 

“He’s got to go, as soon as the cops are gone.” The man pointed at Simon, “I get it. Don’t want mundanes to think he’s the killer of whoever you guys bumped into outside. Very noble. But he’s leaving as soon as possible.”

The woman that had been with Clary before grabbed the man’s arm. “Alec, there were Circle members. They are probably going to stick around for a while, we can’t let him go this easily. We need to keep him safe, remember?” 

“The Circle members, they are the ones who took my mother,” Clary added. So that was why Jocelyn hadn’t answered Simon’s calls… He should have known something was up. 

“What exactly is a Circle member, and why do they want to kill us?” Simon asked. Maybe he should call his mom and tell her to be careful. And call Maureen as well. Just call everyone, call the news. Because fighting with swords and stuff didn’t seem to be actually effective, and Simon gathered that maybe telling the government was better than staying in this high-tech military church place. 

“All we know is, a long time ago, the Circle members led a revolt. A lot of Shadowhunters got killed. Including my father,” the blond explained. 

“And since the revolt, we’ve been forbidden to even... hear about the Circle,” the tall one added. 

What the fuck. Every time any of them talked, Simon felt like his brain wasn’t functioning right. A revolt no one knew about, being forbidden to even talk about it? What kind of people were these... Shadowhunters? What kind of society were they part of? Clary voiced the concerns that he was about to voice himself. 

It wasn’t right. Hiding things like this from your population was so clearly authoritarian… at least it seemed to Simon. Was this some kind of secret government agency, trying to keep people without knowledge of a bigger war? Maybe he couldn’t tell the cops, he would maybe be arrested for knowing such secrets. Why the hell was he going all conspiracy theory? Conspiracies weren’t really his thing. 

“There’s got to be someone out there who can tell us why they took my mother!” Clary exclaimed and Simon crossed his arms, standing by her side. He was going to trust her on this one. She didn’t seem entirely under these people’s control yet. 

“There is,” the blonde said. “Follow me.” 

He followed the guy for a couple of steps before he turned around. “Sorry. Not you.”

“We’re a package deal, Jace,” Clary pointed out. Good. That was good. 

“There are runes all over this place. They’ll kill your boyfriend.” 

Simon made a face. Ewwwwww. Clary shook her head at the same time he was doing so, and he knew she was as disgusted as he was. 

“Oh god no. We’re friends. I’m gay.” 

“Yes. Best friend to the lesbian,” Simon added, “and I’m tough. I can handle your runes. Whatever they are.” 

The woman chuckled behind them and Simon turned around. She grabbed the thing she’d used to burn her skin earlier and revealed another mark she had on her arm. 

“They give us our demon-fighting powers. Help us enhance our abilities.”

_ So cool. _ No, they weren’t supposed to be cool, they were scary weird soldiers who were like Clary’s and his age but seemed so much older in so many ways that were probably so unhealthy. 

“I just realized we didn’t introduce ourselves. So rude of us. The dashing blond there is Jace, behind me is Alec, and I’m Isabelle, but everyone calls me Izzy.” She smiled softly. “I was about to make breakfast if you want.” 

Jace winced. “Hmm, maybe the runes are a better idea.” And he mouthed the words “worst cook ever” at Clary, exchanging a smile with her. 

“You’re really not any better, Jace!” Izzy called out. Everyone chuckled, gained by the easy teasing between the siblings. Even Alec cracked a hint of a smile at the exchange. 

 

\------------------

 

Clary’s brain had stopped functioning normally a while ago. She’d learned so much, yet so little, in the past couple of hours. She had learned she was an angelic warrior, she’d learned her mother was as well. She had learned her mother had been part of some kind of… terrorist group, and had stolen from its leader an artefact of incredible power. And now she was a prisoner of that man, Valentine Morgenstern, and Clary was supposed to ask Dot–who was a warlock?– for help. 

She was standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom of Isabelle, the beautiful girl. She was wearing borrowed clothes, again, but this time, at least they were a little more covering. A little more Clary’s style than Isabelle's. 

Clary had nothing against women who dressed in revealing things. She appreciated the fact that they felt comfortable enough to wear them, and she appreciated how absolutely gorgeous they looked. Isabelle was one of these model-like women. 

The tank top’s neckline was maybe a little lower than what Clary was used to. And the pants a little tighter, but it was much better than before. 

“That’s the least revealing thing you have, right?” Clary teased. 

“Yes,” Isabelle said, walking to stand right behind her. In the mirror, Clary could see the woman glance up and down her figure. “Sorry for the stuff earlier… I didn’t realize you would be less... comfortable than I am.”

“Don’t worry about it, it was a joke,” Clary muttered. “Where’s Simon?”

Isabelle chuckled. “He’s with the boys. Don’t worry, he’s in good hands. He’s a sweet guy, your Simon.”

Clary smiled softly at that. Isabelle walked away, going to sit on the bed, and Clary looked at her. She was gorgeous. She remembered Isabelle as the girl who had been dancing at the club, now. She was wearing more clothing now, but her sides, from bra to hip, were uncovered.

The woman sat down on the bed, sighing happily. Ah, the relief of sitting on your bed. A well-known feeling to many.

“So Alec, Jace, you are… what, family?” Clary asked.

“Hmm. You wanna know if Jace and I are a thing, don’t you?” Isabelle replied.

Clary raised an eyebrow. Was she this obviously gay? Well, maybe if she would stop staring at the red of Isabelle’s lipstick, or the way her hair fell around her face, so soft looking… “Why would I care?” She muttered.

“Because you do,” Izzy chuckled. “They always do.”

“I’m gay, remember?” Clary replied to that, and Izzy froze for a second.

“Right,” she muttered.

That was… a surprising reply. Did gay people exist in this Shadowhunter thing? A part of Clary wouldn’t even really be surprised if they didn’t. Or if they were all closeted. She pursed her lips and looked at Isabelle, waiting for an answer.

Izzy wasn’t used to gay people being out around her. She just wasn’t. A part of her was quite happy this girl wasn’t going to throw herself at Jace, for reasons Izzy still didn’t understand to this day. But dealing with the knowledge this girl was… into women and proud of it, and saying it out loud so easily… That was something Izzy hadn’t been prepared for. At all.

“Sorry. Hmm. So. Jace? Brother. Our parents adopted him when he was 10. We grew up together. He’s… yes, he’s my sibling. We’ve trained together. Fought together. We’re blood siblings, in the war sense.”

Clary looked away. War. Fighting. Training. This world was so foreign to her. And yes, a part of her knew it was her world. A part of her resonated when she saw runed bodies, and demons, and swords. It scared her, in a way, that she knew she would fit in this world, in this role - a Shadowhunter - so easily, if she let herself.

“Two days ago, all I worried about was art school and getting a date with a cute girl. Now…”

“I’m bad at pep talks,” Izzy said softly, standing up from the bed and walking towards her. “I can tell you one thing. Being a Shadowhunter is not a job. It’s who we are. It’s who you are. It’s in your DNA,” she whispered, reaching to tuck a strand of stray hair behind Clary’s ear.

The red-head blushed at the gesture and Izzy smiled back. She liked Clary. She liked her a lot. “You were born for this. I know it’s a lot to take in, right now. But this… is who you are. And I know you feel it in your blood.”

Clary looked into the woman’s eyes. She felt it, yes. She felt a growing fear as well, at how insane and scary this world was. But maybe Isabelle was right, and the fire that was igniting at the thought of the things she had to do was normal. Maybe it was just who she was.

 

\------------------------

 

The ride in the mundane’s van had been way too long and way too awkward. Alec just… couldn’t take this. He couldn’t. The guy was talking and talking and talking and it was just too much. 

Izzy was giving the red-head the biggest of heart eyes, and Jace had this smug “I was right, she’s a hot-head like me,” smirk, and Alec was counting the rules they’d broken. Too many. They were going to get into such monumental trouble for this.

He was sitting on the bench in the back of the van, with Jace in front of him and Izzy on the front seat next to the mundane. She and Clary were chatting as well, Izzy twisting her entire body so she could see the new girl.

Finally, they arrived at the entrance of the City of Bones. It was such a bad idea. Carving memories out of the girl’s mind could very wel lkill her, and they would get into even more trouble if she died.

Stupid warlocks that couldn’t stay in place, stupid mundane, stupid Jace who had had the insane idea to bring her here. Alec stepped out of the van and crossed his arms, looking away. It was night now. Of course, it was. Of course, they had spent the entire fucking day running after a random warlock.

Alec sighed again, closing his eyes tightly for a second to try and contain the irritation and frustration that welled up inside his body. He wanted to go and punch the bags in the training room until every single feeling left him and he was just numb. Then maybe he would be able to deal with this.

“Let’s check this out,” he ordered, and the three Shadowhunters walked around, weapons ready, checking for signs of danger. Clary and the mundane stayed behind. Once they were out of sight and earshot, Alec turned towards his siblings.

“If something goes wrong, if something happens to her, that's on us. You know that, don't you?” he pointed out, eyes flickering between Jace and Izzy. He couldn’t believe they were both going for this.

“Yeah. And you know exactly what happens if Valentine gets the Cup before we do,” Jace replied, staring right back at him.

Alec knew, of course he knew, but this cup thing was only the tales of this girl they knew nothing about. This girl no one knew anything about, that had charmed Izzy, and Jace.

“She’s lost everything, Alec. I know exactly what that feels like,” Jace continued.

Of course he knew. Alec sighed again. He couldn’t go against that without sounding like an absolute asshat.

“What’s your problem with her anyway? Your family always used to welcome strays,” Jace added.

“You were never a stray. You are a friend. You are our brother. She’s a girl we know nothing about,” Alec replied. “This isn’t the same.”

“It is the same. We’re in this together. There’s just one more of us,” Izzy interjected.

Alec turned to send her a look. Not her too. Not Izzy too. No one was making any sense anymore. They were all so enthralled with this stupid girl. They were supposed to be smarter than this!

Clary waited for the group to come back, leaning against the van. She could see the nervous energy in Simon’s shoulders and in the way he was buzzing around. She was just… not nervous, somehow. She trusted Izzy, Jace, and even Alec, despite the way he looked at her like she was a piece of gum stuck to his boot.

“How are you not ultra-freaked out by all of this?” Simon finally asked. He’d looked like he was about to say something for a good thirty minutes.

“It just makes sense.” Clary shrugged. “I’ve always felt…” She couldn’t explain it exactly. “Remember two years ago, when I tried driving Mark’s motorcycle?”

“Yeah. You almost died.”

“That. I… I just wanted to feel this rush. I’ve always wanted to feel this kind of rush. And since I… learned about all of this? It’s starting to make sense. The part of me that was always into extreme sports, and getting that adrenalin rush? I think it was the Shadowhunter getting restless. I don’t feel it anymore. Not until I walked into Pandemonium and saw them fight.”

“You never said what you saw in there,” Simon pointed out.

“Well, I didn’t have much time to sit down and explain. But it was just… it was horrible. But fascinating at the same time.” She whispered. “It made sense, even if it really didn’t.”

“It’s really something I can’t understand, right?”

Clary failed to catch the slightly bitter tone of Simon’s voice.

“It’s not… Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just.. let’s get your mom back.”

Jace called for them to go on, and Clary followed the other Shadowhunters, Simon trailing behind. He still didn’t understand why Clary was so comfortable with these strangers. With this world, maybe. But with these three lethal twenty-somethings? These three people who acted somewhat much older than their physical age, as if they’d matured way too quickly? Clary should have been weirded out. Simon was worried because she wasn’t.

“So who are these silent brothers?” Clary asked after a moment of walking forward.

“They are Shadowhunters like us… But they are even more than that.” Izzy explained, linking her arm with Clary’s as they walked.

“So what? They like Jace’s charm and superior people skills?”

Izzy chuckled at that, smiling widely at Clary. “I like you!” She exclaimed, before going back to her explanation. “Strangely, most people do. But the Brothers communicate without talking. They use thoughts instead. It can be really… upsetting.”

“It doesn’t sound that bad to me.”

“You say that now. But hearing someone’s voice resounding in your head can be strange. And they are a cryptic bunch. There’s very little about them that is still human.”

Clary hummed at that. That sounded strange indeed. A bit scary too. Izzy didn’t seem to be that weirded out by it, but then again, she’d seen the woman kill creatures and people without blinking. The Shadowhunters seemed like they were used to a level of violence that Clary had never really experienced. “So what will happen, with my memories?”

“They’ll hold the Soul Sword to your head, and with its blade, carve the truth from your mind.”

“Well, that definitely sounds menacing.”

Izzy nodded, stopping to look her in the eyes. “Alec said the truth earlier. It might kill you. The pain… it’ll be excruciating. Like nothing you’ve ever experienced.” She whispered. “You need to be sure.”

“I’m sure,” Clary said. The other three stopped to gather around them. “I’ll do anything. Walk through fire, battle demons, kill everything and everyone in my path. I need to get my mom back.”

“You will,” Jace said firmly. Clary turned to him and watched the way his eyes seemed to shine in the darkness. “We will get your mother back,” he promised.

In that exact moment, Clary felt it again. This.. feeling she’s had since stepping in the Institute. She felt like it all made sense. Jace’s warm gaze, and Izzy’s hand on her arm, soft, squeezing lightly in support.

That certitude faltered again, rather quickly, when she saw the skeleton on the door of the City of Bones. They seemed to be quite literal with names around here. She barely paid attention as Simon muttered some words of encouragement. She could do this. Thank God for Simon.

The skeleton seemed scarier and scarier the more Clary stared at it. But the small argument between Simon and the three Shadowhunters kept her distracted pretty quickly.

“The rune energy in the City of Bones will kill any mundane who dares to enter, so, please,” Alec mumbled, showing his obvious lack of care for the entire situation.

“The Brothers creep me out,” Izzy shrugged. “I’ll mind the mundane.”

Clary was a little disappointed at that. She liked Izzy. She trusted her, a lot. She was relieved when Alec decided to go keep the perimeter safe and not come down with her. It would just be her and Jace. Jace had been welcoming and nice too. This was going to be okay.

She wrapped Simon in a bone-crushing hug, suddenly aware that this could kill her. She didn’t want to die. She’d just turned eighteen, she was too young. And she didn’t want to leave Simon behind. He would be in good hands with Izzy, but… she wished for a moment that she could share this with him. It didn’t seem fair, for him not to be by her side.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Simon muttered and she nodded. She just hoped she would come out of there alive.

She hesitated again before walking into the City of Bones. Simon waved at her, and Izzy had a small smile. She had wonderful things to come back to. Clary would survive this.

Jace had only been in the City of Bones a couple of times. It wasn’t somewhere anyone would willingly spend time in. It was dark and cold, and the longer you spent in it, the more you realized that Silent Brothers were far from the people they’d been before.

He walked down the broken steps carefully, warning Clary of the state of them as she followed closely behind him. Water dripped on the stones of the floor, and the runic energy washed over him. Jace closed his eyes a second. It was… overwhelming. And terrifying. The amount of power that the Silent Brothers possessed was unlike any other Shadowhunters. They knew more than he ever would.

The corridors of the City of Bones were dark, too dark. They were obviously made for the Silent Brothers, who couldn’t see, so didn’t need light. It was another reminder that Shadowhunters didn’t belong there, that the living didn’t belong there. He slid the witchlight out of his pocket.

“What’s that?” Clary’s curious voice echoed in the empty corridor.

“It’s a witchlight. Made of the same material as our seraph blades,” Jace explained. “We carry it to remind ourselves that light can be found in even the darkest of places.” Clary’s gaze expressed a very clear “well that’s a load of dramatic bullshit” feeling, and he chuckled. “And it looks way cooler than a flashlight.”

She had a small laugh as well, as he gave her the witchlight to use. “How does it work?”

“It reacts to the angel blood in us. I don’t exactly know how.” He shrugged. “It’s more magic than physics, anyway.”

“My physics teacher used to say magic was just science explained by people who didn’t know science.” Clary mused.

“Your teacher didn’t live in our world.”

They walked further down the corridor, stopping in front of a tall statue of the angel Raziel, holding the Mortal Cup and the Soul Sword. It had never inspired in Jace much of the reverence he’d seen in his father. He looked away at that.

“So that’s the Mortal Cup.”

“Yes. And that’s the Soul Sword. With the Shadowhunters’ creed. For Shadowhunters, the descent into hell is easy.” Jace explained. “Though I think “Looking better in black than the widows of our enemies” captures our vibe way better.”

He and Clary chuckled. She pointed at the first word. “Nephilim. That’s Shadowhunters?”

“Yes and no,” Jace shrugged as they walked in the direction of where the Brothers would be. “Nephilim is Hebrew. Some people think it means Children of Angels. Shadowhunters have angel blood. Therefore...” he didn’t finish the sentence and just waved around. “Also don’t ask me why it’s Hebrew. We come from eleventh-century England, but I guess our ancestors wanted to sound more dramatic.”

“Don’t we all?” Clary had a deliberately dramatic sigh, and Jace chuckled at that. They walked into an area that had more light.

They fell into a rather heavy silence. This place was filled with an energy that made Clary anxious, regrets and fears choking her up. She stopped for a second, to look at Jace. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

“Forget it, okay? She’s dead. It’s not like it means anything. You can’t mourn someone you never knew.”

Clary took a step back, crossing her arms at the snappy tone. “Sorry… for being sorry… I guess.” She mumbled.

“Everyone has a sob story. Mother dead, father dead, brothers and sisters dead. Every single person in the Institute. If you start apologizing for every loss, you’re never going to get to anything.” Jace shrugged. “Besides, my mother was probably as much of a traitor as my father. Circle member. They’re not buried with the rest of the Shadowhunters, they don’t deserve an honorable sepulture. No matter if they tried leaving or not.”

With how much Jace talked about it, and the bitterness in his voice, it seemed like he had more feelings about all of this that he pretended he did. Clary raised an eyebrow.

“Your father was a Circle member?”

“Yes. He was killed for trying to leave. Circle members don’t deserve to be alive.” His voice was colder and harsher and it almost scared Clary. There was a side to all of these people that was violent.

“I… I’m still sorry.”

“Cute. But you’ll see. You’re a Shadowhunter now, you’ll quickly realize there’s no need for those anymore.”

Clary swallowed. Was that what was behind the smiles and the sharp weapons, and the easy banter between the three siblings? Was it all for show? A parody of humanity, a parody of feelings? They walked further in.

They came across a circular room, with a carving on the ground. It was in the shape of an eye and Clary paid more interest to this familiar drawing than to the skeletons that rested in holes in the walls.

“It means clairvoyance,” Jace explained when he realized the way she was staring. Clairvoyance… she’d drawn it before.

She was about to ask more questions when a torch suddenly lit up next to her. Lighting up the walls covered in bones, held by men who wore grey capes, they brought life to the room. Only then did Clary notice the skeletons, bare and uncovered. It was unlike mundane cemeteries, where bodies were hidden away. They were displayed, like trophies almost.

Death was something to be proud of here. It was an honor, to die for your people, and a dishonor to die in the wrong camp. If this was a place that a twenty-something like Jace knew enough to be able to guide her through, maybe it explained the lack of reaction to the violence of their fights. Violence and death were everywhere.

The voice resounded in her head.  _ Shadowhunters.  _ It seemed to come from the depth of an abyss, deep and dark and low. Izzy had been right, it was almost upsetting. What was worse than the otherworldly voice was the appearance of the Silent Brother.

Once he had been a man, but now with mouth and eyes sewn shut by a black thread and the burns of somewhat unhealed runes on his skin, the Brother’s sight brought a deeply-rooted terror in Clary’s mind. Every part of her being whispered that she didn’t belong in this place, in this room where death and magic permeated every atom.

_ Come into the circle. _ The voice ordered, and Clary obeyed. Jace stayed close, but the voice ordered him to move away, and he knew he couldn’t refuse.

_ The search of your unconscious is a perilous one. _

“I know. I have to get my memories back.”

_ If you’re not strong enough, the Soul Sword will kill you. _

And somehow, right there, every doubt left her. She was strong enough. Clary looked right into where the Silent Brother’s eyes had been. She could feel her heart beating in her temples and the magic in the air. She could feel her blood running. Angel blood. She was ready.

 

\--------------

 

“So, is cracking someone's mind open supposed to take this long? Maybe we-or you- should go check?” 

Simon was freezing himself off. The two warriors had somehow lit a fire for him to warm himself. Neither of them seemed to be affected by the cold. The man - Alec - would leave them from time to time to go make sure they were still safe, and the woman - Isabelle - stayed close to him.

Isabelle was the nicest, by far of the two, and the most patient. It was a bit surprising that the two of them came from the same family. They were so different. As Simon was rambling away, using words to keep himself from losing it entirely, the man cut in.

“It literally never stops talking.”

Simon raised an eyebrow but decided against talking back to the man. He seemed to have enough on his plate. Isabelle shrugged. “Forgive him. He’s an ass, but we love him anyway.” She chuckled. “Our protective bear of a big brother.”

“Doesn’t seem that fluffy and warm to me.”

“He has his moments. Now. We’ve been talking and talking, but you haven’t really told us anything about you. Or Clary.” Isabelle pointed out.

“Ah, I’m just… Simon. I play music.”

“Does Clary play with you?” She asked curiously.

“No, but she’s our resident artist. Have you seen the van? All the tags are by her.” Simon grinned.

“That’s really cool!” Isabelle smiled. “Can we go back to the van so you can show me everything?”

Alec rolled his eyes. “Don’t go too far. We’re not losing the mundane.”

“Don’t worry, Alec,” Isabelle replied as she was already walking with Simon towards where they had parked the van. She was excited to see those drawings.

Clary and Simon were a breath of fresh air in her life. They were so normal. She remembered being eighteen, and it hadn’t been about pretending to be twenty-one in clubs or riding around in tagged vans. It had been about killing demons and not getting killed.

Izzy found herself daydreaming about that life again. She would wear jean shorts and t-shirts, and she would listen to indie rock and be preoccupied with finding a boyfriend and not getting caught drinking. She would do like all those teenagers in the mundane movies, throw parties in backyards with swimming pools, and be a cheerleader with those cute outfits.

“And I totally have some music on my phone if you want to.” Simon grinned.

Isabelle nodded. “Oh definitely. So… Rock Solid Panda?” She raised an eyebrow at the tag on the door of the van. “And Champagne Enema?” her eyes caught another drawing. “And a rune.”

Simon followed her eyes. “Yes. Clary drew it the night she disappeared.”

“It’s an angelic power rune. It’s more symbolic than anything.” Izzy explained. “I have the one on my arm, that I was given when I finished my training and the one on my chest. A little fuck you to dear mom and dad and their conventions.” She chuckled.

“When did you get the first one?” Simon asked curiously.

“Oh, it was a long time ago. I was eleven. We had a big party for my Rune Ceremony. I was so excited to finally go in the field.”

She didn’t notice the look on Simon’s face. It would soon be ten years since that ceremony. Time had flown by unnoticed. After a couple years in the field, she’d become Alec’s parabatai. And now… here they were.

Her train of thoughts was cut off by a ruffling of leaves behind her. A ruffling that meant something or someone was moving in them. She turned around, hand on her seraph blade immediately. In a few seconds, she pushed Simon into the van and closed the door.

“I’ll be right back, don’t leave the van.” She ordered, and took the weapon out of its holster, searching for the source of the noise. She knew Alec had been thorough, but she couldn’t allow herself not to check for threats.

 

\-------------

 

_ The Soul Sword reveals all.  _

Clary’s head tilted back without her willing, and she watched as a long, sharp sword hovered over her. So maybe Izzy had meant the whole “carve memories from your mind” more literally than Clary had initially thought. Maybe she wasn’t ready after all. Maybe it was all a lie, and maybe she was going to die here, without knowing the truth, without seeing Simon or her mom, or Luke again. She closed her eyes the moment she felt the sharp end of the sword hit her forehead. The pain overwhelmed her, and with that, the memories.

_ The edges of her memories were hazy with pain. She was sixteen and was on the phone with Simon. He was telling her something that had happened with his guitar again, and his voice was soft and familiar. They were both talking in their bed, at night, knowing they were supposed to be asleep, and that if they were caught they would be in trouble. _

_ So she quickly said goodbye when she heard her mom and Luke approaching. That was a smart move. A second after she put her phone down, Luke walked through the door. _

_ “Luke, no,” her mom said, and Clary heard in her tone an urgency she’d never heard before. _

_ “But this lying is destroying you. Stop blocking her memory and tell her the truth,” _

_ “You know I can't.” _

_ Was her mom lying? What would she even be lying about? Her mom never kept anything from her, why would she start now? _

_ “You’re just delaying the inevitable. Clary’s a Shadowhunter, there’s nothing you can do to change that.” _

_ She’d been hiding that. Of course she had, Clary knew that now, but sixteen-year-old her wouldn’t listen. She didn’t understand the words that Luke was saying. _

_ “This world is too dangerous. If anyone knew who she really was, the risks would be a hundred times greater.” _

_ “What happens when she finds out the truth on her own? And then what?” _

_ “I won't let that happen.” Her mom didn’t want her to know who she really was. “If she ever learns about her father…” Her father? What did he have to do? “if she ever finds out that her father is Valentine…” _

Clary’s eyes opened. The pain left. It took her a few seconds to come back to reality to face the Silent Brother in front of her. Valentine. Her father was Valentine, the one that everyone seemed to hate, the one who seemed to have killed so many people.

“No! There has to be more!” She shouted, and Jace was by her side immediately, holding her.

“Do you know where the Cup is?” he asked.

The cup? Who cared about the cup? Who cared about that useless piece of metal? Her mother had lied about so many things. Clary’s entire life was a lie, everything was wrong. She was the daughter of a monster.

_ Only fragments of her memory were accessible to us. _

Clary wanted to scream. What came out was a small “no.” It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t. The Silent Brother kept talking and she kept shaking her head, kept refusing, taking steps after steps away from these creatures.

“She lied, she lied about everything, she lied about my father!”

Everything was falling apart around her. Pictures of a man in a soldier’s uniform, who wasn’t even anyone they knew. Birthdays after birthdays where she blew her candles and wished for her father to be there. Nights after nights of her mother telling her how proud of her he would be.

“It’s Valentine. I’m… my father is Valentine.” She whispered the words and they felt even worse out loud.

Jace’s eyes were wide open in shock. There wasn’t even anger in them, there was just nothing. There was just shock. Clary couldn’t breathe. Her mother had lied. Her mother had lied about things much worse than being a Shadowhunter and having runes. Her mother had hidden her own identity from Clary, all those years. And it hurt.

She choked out a breath and took off running towards the exit.

By the time she reached the door, she was able to breathe again. Alec was waiting for them outside, and his expecting gaze made the tears well up in her eyes. Jace broke the news to him.

“This girl shows up out of nowhere and she’s Valentine’s daughter, and it just… she could be a spy. It could be part of her plan. She could be a very good actress!”

Clary’s voice was distorted by pain when she spoke to cut the man off. “Do you think I planned to get my mother kidnapped, and Dot killed, and a sword dangled over my head and find out my father is this… person everyone hates so much and everyone is so afraid of?” She shouted. “Do you think I planned for my mom to lie to me for my entire life?”

Alec didn’t even look apologetic, and Clary couldn’t take this anymore. She wanted her mom, but she couldn’t have her. So she needed Simon. She looked around and the obvious absence of her best friend made another wave of panic and rage well up inside of her.

“Where’s Simon?”

Izzy came towards them running, and she started talking and the only thing that Clary could understand is that he wasn’t there anymore.

"He’s gone?” her voice rose higher with the panic. “You were supposed to protect him!” She yelled at Izzy. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything. She was alone now and everything hurt and this… warrior person had lost her best friend.

She took off running again. The van was empty. She screamed and she screamed, and he wasn’t there, he wasn’t answering, she was alone. She screamed another desperate “Simon”, and someone answered.

“Is that the mundane’s name?” A voice shouted back from a pillar of the highway bridge they had parked under. “I’m afraid Simon’s coming with us now.”

Clary screamed again and her running towards the man that was holding Simon hostage was only cut off by Jace.

“It’ll be my pleasure to kill you unless you return him to us,” Jace warned as he struggled to keep Clary from escaping his grip.

“Careful. We’d be violating the Accords.” Alec’s voice was monotone and so cold that Clary had the deep desire to punch him in the face. Who cared about the fucking rules? They had her best friend dangling by his feet on top of a bridge!

“I'm afraid your sidekick's quite right. The Night Children have broken no laws. We're negotiating. The mundane, unharmed, in exchange for the Mortal Cup.”

Again with that stupid cup! Clary didn’t have it. If she had it, she would have traded it the second she’d seen Simon prisoner.

“And the clock is ticking. Tick-tock, people.” The man taunted, and in a blink of an eye, he’d disappeared, only leaving behind the echo of Simon calling Clary’s name.

She broke down in sobs on the ground. It was all her fault. If she hadn’t followed Jace into the club, he wouldn’t be hostage to this deranged man. If only she’d been able to keep herself out of trouble, her best friend would be safe. Everything would have been normal. She would still have her mom. She would still have her life.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 3 - Dead Man's Party! ;)
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	3. Dead Man's Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> Today's chapter is Dead Man's Party... Lightwood Siblings Bonding and Clary's realization that maybe, being part of the Shadow World isn't as great as she thought it could be. 
> 
> And of course, gayness!
> 
> Enjoy!

As she walked into the Institute, Clary saw the things she hadn’t seen the last time. The weapons everywhere, the military appearance of all these people. The scars and the burns of the runes on their bodies. The death in their stares. 

The three Shadowhunters had been quiet as Clary had driven the van back to the Institute. They’d sat down in the back, and had just stayed silent. Clary didn’t like driving, but Simon wasn’t here, and she didn’t trust the three soldiers anymore. Not with such things as driving her best friend’s van. Not with such a ‘mundane’ thing. 

“How can I trust you when all you have is empty promises and shiny swords?” she exclaimed, walking quickly into the corridor to the war room.

“Because we protect humans,” Izzy replied, and Clary froze, turning around. 

“Really? Then why did you let Simon get taken by a bunch of… psycho people?” she hissed. 

“They’re vampires,” Jace corrected, “and they won’t do anything to Simon. They want to draw you out. They want the Cup, and they think you have it.” 

Clary let out a frustrated huff. “Why do they think that? Why do the vampires and the Circle think that? What, my mom lies to me my entire life except,” she took on a different voice,” 'Oh, by the way, there's this magic cup I hid on, like, the planet Bongo, but don't tell anyone.'”

She wanted to go home and curl up in bed and sleep until everything was okay again. Except she didn’t have a home, or a bed to go back to, and nothing would be magically fixed when she woke up. She was just  _ stuck _ , stuck with these people who didn’t even really seem to care. Stuck and alone, and lost. “What am I supposed to do now?” she muttered. 

Her words were met with complete silence. They didn’t know either. Izzy’s eyes were fixed on the tip of her boot, and Jace was leaning against the wall, eyes wide and obviously trying and failing to come up with something. 

The first one to talk was Alec. “We have to report to the Clave,” he said and started walking towards the main room again, Jace and Izzy following, quiet, behind him. “They have to know what we’ve learned about Valentine.” 

“What, that he’s my father?” 

“Yes,” Alec said, turning to look at her. It was almost the first time that Alec looked at her directly, in the eyes. His eyes were colder than Jace’s and Izzy’s, more dead, almost. “They have to know. This is information they’ve never had before,” he said. “No one knew about you. Having you with us is a clear advantage.” 

“What good does that do Simon?”

Jace sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know what good it does to Simon. All we have is the Clave, and right now that’s the only thing we really know for sure. The only idea of where to go from here.” 

Izzy nodded. “And it gives us a bit of time to think. To plan something. But we’re getting your friend back. Protecting mundanes, it’s still our thing.”

Clary looked up at them. There was something earnest in their eyes, and they suddenly were young. They were young and they were lost, just as lost as her. Maybe not as lost, but at least… quite so. 

“So we need a plan,” she muttered. 

“We do. Alec will report to the Clave, and the three of us, we can try to think of something. For Simon. Before we can deal with the Cup, and your mom,” Izzy replied and walked a little closer. “I’m sorry.”

Clary raised an eyebrow. “I thought sorry wasn’t the Shadowhunter way.” She looked at Izzy, her voice colder than before. 

They walked into the main room of the Institute. Alec could feel the sadness and shame in Izzy. He wanted to tell Clary it was all her fault. Izzy wouldn’t be feeling like this if Clary hadn’t barged into their lives. 

The rational part of him was telling him it was just how it would have gone either way. Clary would have realized one day who she was, and they would have found the people behind the mundane blood. They still didn’t know who the buyer was. Another thing that Clary had fucked over. He sighed and went to sit in front of the computer to type up the report and wait for indications on how to proceed. 

He waited in front of the computers for a while, in vain, for a reply he didn’t get. After a moment, he elected to go back to the rest of the group. At least, if he was there, it couldn’t go that bad, could it? 

“So the vampires were local. Camille’s outfit,” Izzy explained. “The man, it was Raphael Santiago, her right-hand man.” 

“Why would the vampires even want the cup? Doesn’t it create Shadowhunters?” Clary asked.

“It does. It also controls demons. So Downworlders not wanting to have an army of brainwashed Shadowhunters and an army of demons going after them… it makes sense.” Jace shrugged. 

“So they’re at the Hotel Dumort. On Gansevoort Street.” Izzy nodded. 

“We need a Clave resolution to go get Simon. It would be declaring war on the vamps, and that’s strictly against the rules,” Alec recited. “We can’t act on our impulses. We’re not Downworlders. They are slaves to their impulses, we’re not.”

Izzy tsked at that, looking at her brother. “Alec, you can’t just jump on all the Downworlders…” 

“Oh, that’s right. Seelies have their charms apparently.” Alec rolled his eyes, sending Izzy a look that said many things. 

Izzy wasn’t ashamed of her liking for Seelies. Meliorn and her had had quite the relationship for a couple of years now. They were useful to each other, and they had so much fun that it would almost be a crime for her not to spend time with him. 

She shrugged. “Well, they do.” She turned to Clary. “Seelies are another one of the Downworlder Species. Anyone half-angel and half-demon is a Seelie.” 

“Izzy can tell you all about them.” Alec’s tone was right on the edge between teasing and mocking as he smirked at his sister. “She’s got a thing for them.” 

“We all have our things,” she replied, matching her tone with Alec’s. They had a moment of exchanging playful glares, that was cut off by Jace’s cough. 

“We aren’t all parabatai here,” he reminded them. “Penny for your thoughts.” 

Izzy shrugged. “We need weapons. I need to visit Meliorn.” 

“We should wait for the Clave to reply to the report and approve our infiltration of the DuMort.” Alec shook his head. “This isn’t a good idea, Iz.” 

“Okay fine.” Izzy rolled her eyes. “Let’s say, we give the Clave 24 hours. We know the vampires aren’t going to harm Simon anyway, then we would have actual grounds for infiltration, and Downworlders never want us in their business.” She shrugged and looked at Clary. “I know it seems like a long time, but Alec is right. We need to at least wait for a moment.”

Jace nodded. “I stand with that. In 24 hours, if we have no news from the Clave, we’re getting weapons from one of the secret caches all around town, and Izzy sees Meliorn.” 

Izzy smiled. “He’ll have information on how to get into the DuMort discreetly.” She stood up from the corner of the table she’d been sitting at, and walked to Clary. “Come with me. We’ll get some food, some PJs, and try to rest a little before tomorrow." 

She waved goodbye to her brothers before pulling Clary along. They would have a talk and Izzy would explain more, answer the new questions about this world that the red-head was probably asking herself now. She had a feeling the Clave wouldn’t care, and that they would go without their authorisation anyway. 

As Clary was changing into sweatpants and a t-shirt, Izzy grabbed some paper, a pen and her stele, and sent Meliorn a fire message. She hoped he would be around. 

 

\---------------

 

Clary woke up a few hours after falling asleep  and slipped out of Izzy’s bed. The other woman seemed to be sleeping quite well for the general situation. It was a bit unnerving, but Clary guessed it was pretty much usual for them. 

She walked to the vanity. Finding a hair tie was going to prove more difficult than she’d initially thought. Izzy’s stuff wasn’t really tidied up. Makeup products, brushes, perfume, and hairbrushes were strewn all over the table.

Clary liked makeup, but not to this extent. She was a BB-cream and the occasional concealer for zits kind of girl. She owned one eyeshadow palette that she had had for probably way too long, and one tube of mascara. Izzy’s collection was quite extensive and expensive.

She managed to find a hair tie, and tied her hair up, before putting on her shoes again and walking out of the room. It was time to explore a little. Izzy’s room was the last in a long corridor with walls panelled with dark wood. She walked to the staircase and followed it down to the main floor.

She walked over a long bridge-like construction. On her right was the main room, with all the screens and the desk spaces. It was night, so most of the lights were out. She started exploring the big room, mapping it in her mind. On the other side of the room was the training room where she’d seen Hodge the first time.

There was someone in there, and the rhythmic sound of fists hitting something. Clary curiously walked closer. It was Alec. She thought he would be asleep by now, just like Jace and Izzy. He seemed caught up in his own world, punching a bag.

Clary decided against interrupting him. The man had never really seemed to enjoy her presence, and she didn’t want to somehow add to the offence by disrupting his night-time punching session.

Clary walked back to the bridge and continued into the other side of the building, the side she hadn’t seen yet. There were other long corridors with wood panelling, and Clary didn’t open the doors. It could be other bedrooms, and she didn’t want to intrude. She made her way up another flight of stairs that mirrored the one she’d gone down before.

She arrived on a balcony that overlooked the city after walking through more corridors. There were statues of angels, and demons, and other gargoyle-looking beasts there, and she leaned over the railing, looking at the bustling street.

People wouldn’t see her if they looked up. They wouldn’t see anything other than a broken down, empty church. How many times had Clary walked past something that others hadn’t been able to see? Had she walked past Seelies that she’d mistaken for people who were into body modification? Had she walked past vampires? Was the sunlight problem a thing for those vampires?

She didn’t know what to think about this world. Her world. It had seemed so shiny and new, and now it was all… dark. Deadly. Izzy had told her she was twenty, and though she did look that age, she also seemed much older to Clary. Maybe Clary was hoping she was much older because being such a killer at twenty felt wrong.

She sighed. She hoped Simon would be okay. She couldn’t leave him, she couldn’t let him be a prisoner to those people when he’d done nothing wrong. Simon didn’t have his place in this war. He belonged at Java Jones with a guitar, with Maureen…

Maureen. Fuck, what did Maureen think was happening? Was she worried? Was she angry at Clary for just running away like that? Clary seemed to somehow have forgotten about her life. Her real life. What was going on in her world now that she wasn’t in it anymore?

Clary walked away from the balcony, and back into the Institute, back to Izzy’s room. She didn’t have answers to these questions. For now, she just needed to focus. Get Simon back. Then, get her mom back.

Alec was still punching something in the training room. Clary slipped back into bed and fell asleep for another couple of hours.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Twenty-four hours after the message to the Clave had been sent, no reply had arrived. They’d waited, they’d slept, they’d eaten and gotten ready to infiltrate the lair of the vampires. 

Clary laced up her shoes again, looking up to see Izzy browsing through her wardrobe.

“Are you coming with us?” she asked.

“Hmm, I’m sorry, I’m going to have to leave you with the boys on this one. I’m going to see Meliorn.” Izzy shrugged and pulled out a bright red dress with a zip in the front. Clary raised an eyebrow.

“Meliorn, huh? Your boyfriend?”

“Oh, Angel, no,” Izzy chuckled. “We’re just friends. Colleagues, even. He’s got information on the Seelies and the Downworld that is very useful to us, and sometimes I give him a little tidbit back. He’s a good informant, and a great lover, so… I like going to see him. It’s always fun to mix business and pleasure.”

Her nonchalant tone brought a blush to Clary’s cheeks. She’d never really talked so easily about having sex. Hell, she’d never really talked about having sex at all. Izzy caught up on that and smiled. Adorable flustered little mundane.

“So it’s going to be just you, Jace and Alec,” Izzy added. “Have fun with the two of them. They’re a handful.”

Clary finished getting ready quickly and bid goodbye to Izzy, before joining the two men in the main room. They were going over some plans in a low voice, looking at their phones the entire time. Jace lit up when he saw her and Alec barely blinked.

Clary couldn’t help but think back to the man in workout clothes, hitting over and over a punching bag without a thought for the outside world, as if the only thing that mattered was his fist against the leather.

They climbed in the van and Clary set the GPS on her phone so she could get to the graveyard they were going to be robbing. It was somehow the middle of the night again, and Clary realized she’d basically forgotten how the world was turning outside of the Institute. She’d been stuck in one long night for the last three days, since her birthday.

She hadn’t even gotten to eat cake, and suddenly, that very fact became more important than anything else. She had to push back the tears in her eyes at the realisation. She managed to keep them from causing a traffic accident and ended up parking next to the cemetery.

“So whose grave is it?” Alec asked as he started walking in between the graves.

“Mary Milligan, born January 10th, 1802. Died, January 10th, 1878,” Jace replied, looking at the info on his phone. 

“So Shadowhunters weapons are just… in the middle of a cemetery? A churchyard?” Clary asked. She was glad she’d found the one pair of non-heeled boots in Izzy’s wardrobe. She just couldn’t do the same amount of running and walking over uneven terrain that Izzy seemed to be able to accomplish. 

“Because all of the ancient religions recognized demons. They forgot about the threat because we've been here to protect them, but we used to have alliances with churches a lot,” Jace explained, as Alec just ignored them and walked towards the statue of an angel.

Clary and Jace started going through other graves, searching for those that were from the same time period as the one they were searching for. Clary had never really like graveyards, and this was just… creepy. When she was very little, she would ask her mom whenever they walked past a cemetery, whether her dad was in it or not.

Eventually, she’d learned that his body hadn’t been recovered from the battles he’d been in. Her mother hadn’t really ever said which battle, which war… Clary now understood the mystery around all of it. She’d always thought it was due to the pain of the loss… but it had been because of the lie.

“I always wondered where my dad was buried,” she said, softly, stopping in front of a random grave. Jace stopped next to her. “I used to wish he was still alive.”

She’d spent so many days thinking about him, how he would be, what stories he would tell her. She’d thought about him and her mom, their wedding… but her mom had never been married–not to the mundane man she claimed to have married, anyway. She’d prayed even; when she’d learned what prayer was.

“Be careful what you wish for,” she mused. 

“You didn’t wish him back into existence,” Jace said. “That doesn’t happen. He was always alive, and the fact that he is isn’t your fault.”

She was about to respond something when Alec called Jace over. He let Clary handle the rest of the searching while he ran towards his brother.

“What is this about?” Alec asked the second he arrived.

“We’re getting the mundane back.”

“Is this because you actually care about the mundane, or because you want to get into the girl’s pants too?” Alec crossed his arms.

“Dude, what the fuck? She wouldn’t even be into me.”

“Whatever it is,” Alec hissed, “it has to stop. This time, you didn’t just bump into a mundane and caused them to think they are crazy, but you fucked us all over. We never completed the mission, a mundane got taken by vamps, and now we have an untrained, incompetent Shadowhunter kid running around, and you and Izzy are following her with some stupid ass smiles, like everything is fucking normal.”

“So, it’s about Izzy.”

Alec rolled his eyes and tried to keep himself from screaming. Yes, it was partly about Izzy, because Izzy had been even more reckless than usual since the girl had shown up. She’d also been distracted enough to let the mundane get kidnapped.

“I can feel that she’s more distracted than usual, and distraction gets us killed. Besides now, we’re not only breaking Clave rules, but we’re going to start to break the fucking Accords!” Alec was trying so hard not to yell. He could feel the anger bubbling inside of him. Fuck. He’d thought he’d exhausted himself enough last night to be fine, but he just wasn’t. “And all for what? For a stupid girl who was a mundane a week ago, and who is Valentine’s daughter!”

“You still don’t trust her.” Jace looked at him in a way that made Alec even more frustrated. He was basically mocking him.

“We’ve known her for four days. So, no. I don’t trust people after knowing them for four days. Hell, I didn’t even trust you after four days of knowing you, and you were an actual Shadowhunter raised by family friends.”

“Then it’s your problem, man. Not mine. I trust her. Either get with the program, or don’t take part in this.”

“You know I can’t, Ja-” Alec’s reply was interrupted by Clary calling their name. She’d found the right grave.

Jace gave Alec another look before running off to see her. Alec almost punched the statue out of frustration. He couldn’t just… not be a part of this, not when Izzy seemed to be more and more involved in the wellbeing of the girl. He couldn’t just ignore his parabatai, and for once, he almost wished he was free of the bond.

He ended up following his brother and reached the right tomb. Mary Milligan.  There was an angelic power rune on the top of the stone rectangle.

“Beloved servant… Who would want that on their headstone?” Clary said.

“Someone who is in service of a cause greater than themselves,” Alec replied. He’d managed to contain his anger into his usual mask of complete indifference.

Shadowhunter in life, Shadowhunter in death. The girl wasn’t yet aware of what it meant to be a Shadowhunter. Service, duty. The knowledge that you were a soldier in a war that was greater than yourself. Accepting your fate. These values had been trained into them with every bedtime story. They weren’t something she would understand in a couple of days. Or maybe ever.

 

\----------------------------

 

After they’d gathered the weapons, Alec had left to grab his bow from the Institute, and had left Clary and Jace alone. And for some reason, Jace had decided to bring her to a seedy biker bar. 

Clary’s eyes trailed over the different people around there, and their bikes. Okay, maybe she had a small weakness for biker girls. All that leather, and the fast riding. That was how she’d first gotten her adrenalin taste. With that guy’s motorcycle.

“So what are we doing here?” She asked as they walked through the crowd.

“Killing time, mostly. We can’t move on the vamps before sunrise. That way they won’t be able to follow us.” Jace shrugged. “Plus, I’m going to teach you a little Shadowhunter kind of trick.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “Hit me.”

He chuckled. “Okay.” He turned around and grabbed her shoulders, bringing her in front of him. “Look over there. What do you see?”

Tables. A stage. A waitress with half of her head shaved, and a lot of drinks. Couples. It was a bit dark, and the tables seemed to be bolted into the floor. There were at least three couples making out. That was a bit surprising to her, but she had no idea how common it was. Leather.

“A lot of people. A waitress, people making out…” Clary described. She didn’t really know what was going on, or why he wanted her to describe their surroundings.

“So, you’re using your mundane vision currently, and that’s all well and good, because a lot of the things we deal with daily don’t really care about mundanes seeing anything, so they don’t hide.”

“But?”

Jace chuckled. “Yeah, there is a but. Focus on the couple there in the center. Now, try to see through. As if there was a layer on top of them, try to push your mind through that layer.”

The explanation made little sense, but it wasn’t like Jace or the other Shadowhunters had made so much sense these last few days.

Jace continued. “It’s something that’s natural to Shadowhunters. You haven’t been taught it though, so you’re struggling. Just relax into it, and let your eyes see.”

Clary closed her eyes for a second, before opening them again. The couple that had been making out so passionately was now biting themselves, sucking blood out of each other’s necks.

“They're vampires,” she whispered.

“There are different layers to reality. If you peel back this one, you can see the Shadow World.”

Clary turned back to Jace and looked at him. “So that’s what you see all the time?”

“Yeah.” The man shrugged. “Okay, lesson number two.” He grabbed her shoulders again and turned her towards where a tall woman was standing next to a motorcycle.

“Okay, she is hot as fuck, but what do you want me to do?” Clary asked. The woman was hot. She had a blue leather moto jacket and some relatively tight-fitting pants, and Clary was into it. She would do a lot of things for hot women in leather jackets and tight pants.

“Compliment her on her motorcycle. They like that.”

Clary rolled her eyes but did as she was dared and walked closer to the woman and her bike. “Well, who's the owner of this beauty?” she asked, giving the woman her best coy expression.

The woman grinned at her, licking his lips. “Why, baby, you like to ride?” she asked, and Clary kinda… lost her common sense there. She didn’t really realize that the woman was waving her hand weirdly at her.

All she could think of was getting on that motorcycle, and then going to somewhere private… and doing very very naughty things with that woman. Things that she would have never done. The woman looked even nicer with her pointier teeth now.

“You know you smell like a fucking angel, right, baby?” she asked, and Clary nodded. The woman reached to caress her cheek. “And without all of that shadowhunter rune crap… It’s like a feast just waiting for me to sink my teeth into…”

That idea seemed absolutely amazing, and Clary moved a little closer, leaning against her touch. She made a small appreciative noise. “Thank you…”

The woman’s hands reached to her hips and Clary swallowed. Fuck. She was so into this.

 

\----------------------------

 

Meliorn’s bed was always so comfortable. And he was so enjoyable. Izzy hummed and shifted to lie by his side, smiling widely. She was content and warm, and everything felt good for a while.

“I missed you when you were in Idris,” she muttered, playing with one of the man’s many necklaces. It had been weird the first few times he hadn’t taken them off during sex, but now she kinda enjoyed them. Besides, she was usually on top anyway, it wasn’t like they were falling in her face at the wrong moment. “What’s the Clave like?”

At the question, she saw Meliorn’s eyes get a little colder. “Well… I learned how Shadowhunters really feel about us.”

Ah, that… The Clave was never kind to the Downworlders who visited. Hell, most of the Institute wasn’t either. And herself… she didn’t trust Downworlders. She liked them because they were different. And Meliorn himself… he was special. She didn’t trust him enough to tell him everything that went on with her life, but… she trusted him enough to slip into his bed when she needed or wanted to.

“It's bad enough not to have a vote. It's worse to be treated as inferiors. They act as if Seelies aren't half-angel, too.” Meliorn continued and Izzy shrugged at that.

“But you're also half-demon.” They were. And that demon half changed everything. They couldn’t be trusted the way Shadowhunters were, not even by her who knew Meliorn so well.  “You think that makes us a lesser people?” 

“No, are you kidding? Some of us like a little spice.” Spice. Like him. Fun, and distinctively not a Shadowhunter, and not as bland as all the robots she’d grown up around… and someone her parents disapproved of. “Not all Shadowhunters are alike. Don't you trust me?” she teased.

His answer was blunt. “No, not really.”

Izzy grinned and moved away slightly, running a hand through her hair. “Good. I don’t trust you either,” she replied, before sending him a look. “But as long as Camille and you use protection…”

“How do you know?”

“So, you are seeing Camille.” Her intel had been right. God, she loved knowing everything she could on everyone she could. It made transactions like these so interesting. “I totally get it. She’s very attractive.” Tall, and sexy, and dangerous. And kinda Izzy’s type if she thought about it. She liked her girls dangerous. “But how does that work? Talk about Shadow World enemies. Seelies and vampires don't really speak to each other unless they have to. How do you two manage it?”

Meliorn didn’t answer, just looked away. She rolled her eyes and asked another question.

“So do you go to her place?”

“Sometimes,” he conceded. The closest to a yes she would get tonight it seemed. She had a lot more work to do to get the entrance out of him. Good thing she had until sunrise, and stamina runes.

Izzy moved to kiss him deeply, shifting back to straddle him. His hands gripped her hips and she grinned at him. “So how would you get in?” she asked. Her tone was almost innocent. The way she grinded her hips wasn’t. “You can’t exactly walk in through the front door.”

He looked up at her with a twinkle in his eyes and quickly moved her. In a second, he was sitting up and her back was against his chest. “Then I would just have to use the back door.” The Seelie whispered against her skin, and nipped at it. Izzy giggled.

Her work definitely wasn’t done here. 

 

\----------------------

 

Clary and Jace were standing on the roof of the DuMort. The demon-power bike had landed just a few seconds ago and Clary was already off of it and moving away from Jace. 

“Okay, so what the fuck was that?” She snapped at him.

Jace chuckled and got off the bike as well and turned towards her. “What she did? It’s called encanto. That was just the first step. It's kind of like what a cobra does to a mouse right before it strikes.”

Clary huffed. “Yeah no, I’m not talking about that. Why the fuck did you let me get encanto-ed by that girl? You could have just told me.”

“I just thought it would be fun for you to get some real-life experience.” Jace rolled his eyes. “Besides, you had fun. What’s the harm?”

Clary crossed her arms and looked at him. “Really? You… don’t see what the problem is?” Well. Shadowhunters were much more fucked up than she initially thought. “Next time, skip on the practice.”

“Fine,” Jace sighed and walked closer to her, taking out his stele. “Can I give you a couple runes? One so you don’t get encanto’d anymore, and one so we can get in the Hotel silently.”

Clary ended up accepting, and rolled her sleeve. She winced as Jace burnt the mark into her skin. Why did it have to burn and hurt like that? The fact that Jace or Izzy barely winced at it just added to the “these people are fucked up” pile of things that Clary was starting to gather in her head. He moved to her collar bone, to trace another rune there.

“All done.” He shrugged and moved back. “You okay?”

“Sorry, I don’t have your pain tolerance,” she replied, voice still exasperated.

“There’s a rune for that,” he teased, but his joke fell flat. She rolled her eyes at the heaviness of it and took a deep breath.

 

\---------------

 

The next moment Clary had time to take a breath and calm herself down was almost an hour later, sitting on the stairs outside of the infirmary of the Institute. Simon was in there, with some people she didn’t know taking care of him, checking vitals and giving him some food. 

The last hour had been insane. She’d thought she was going to die every other second. She’d realized just how skilled the others really were, now that they weren’t in the back of a dark club, and that they were actively trying not to kill anyone.

Jace was reckless but good with a sword, for sure. Alec and Izzy… whatever was going on with the two of them, it was insane to watch. Clary had heard the word “parabatai” be thrown around while talking about their bond, and she had yet to learn about what it meant, but it was impressive.

They moved in synch almost, complementing each other. They didn’t even need to really talk to each other. Jace’s style was less smooth and more bloody, and he’d ended up with bruised knuckles over this.

But they’d managed to get Simon back, and they hadn’t had to kill anyone. Which, according to Alec, was the best outcome possible.

There were things that didn’t make a whole amount of sense though, like why the vampire had let Simon go in the end. She’d barely heard what the man had said to justify himself, she was too busy hugging Simon close.  

He’d looked pale and tired, and the scans of the infirmary had revealed he hadn’t really eaten anything, or drunk water, for… at least a day and a half, if not more. He was asleep now, recovering from the massive amount of stress he’d been under.

Clary stayed sitting there right outside of the door. They’d told her to stay out of the room for a while, so he wouldn’t be disturbed. She didn’t really know what else to do. She was exhausted. The fight, the vampire ordeal with the bike… She was for sure still mad at Jace for that one.

She pressed her forehead against the guard of the stairs. Simon was all she had left. Her world outside the Institute had narrowed down to him now. She couldn’t put him in danger again. For a moment, she thought about running away from the Shadowhunters with him, and just move to LA or something. Or Italy. They’d always wanted to go to Italy together.

They would like… rent an apartment or something, and live there, away from this chaos, eating gelato and visiting all those fancy museums and ruins. She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined it. 

She didn’t really know how long she had been sitting on the stairs when someone sat down next to her. It was Izzy. She was still wearing the red dress she’d rescued Simon in, but she’d pulled up her hair in a bun.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly.

Clary nodded, and didn’t say anything. Izzy was nice, but she still seemed foreign. Clary just wanted to be left alone for a moment. At least, be away from the Shadow World. She didn’t say it, instead, she just stared at the tiles on the floor of the Institute. She just wanted to sleep.

“Is there a bedroom I can use?” Clary asked after a while. “I don’t want to keep bothering you. And it’s not like I have anywhere else to go anymore, so I might as well get settled here. If it’s where I belong.”

Izzy smiled softly at her. “Come with me.” She stood up and Clary followed her. They stopped at Izzy’s bedroom so she could grab the PJs she’d been wearing the night before, and then walked up the stairs to another of the wood-panelled corridors.

Izzy opened one of the doors. The bedspread was a light gold. It was not to Clary’s taste, but she couldn’t think about anything else but being able to fall asleep, alone, and just forget about all of this for a few hours. She thanked Izzy, and closed the door behind her. There was no key for the lock.

Izzy walked away from the closed door and back to the main room. Alec was in the training room, as usual, and she went to see him. She sat on one of the benches and watched him hit the punching bag. He was doing that more and more often.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and Alec stopped punching to turn towards her.

“What are you sorry for?” He asked, out of breath.

Izzy sighed. “I haven’t been the greatest parabatai these last couple of days,” she whispered. “And the way I was talking to you at the DuMort… pushing you, it was stupid.”

Alec grabbed his towel and wiped his face, before going to sit beside her. “It’s okay,” he muttered. “We have our moments.”

“It’s not just that… the whole Clary thing…” Izzy started, and she felt Alec tense a little next to her.

“Hey, I know you trust her,” he said after a moment, tone a bit slow like he was searching for his words. “I don’t understand it, but… just be careful, Iz. I don’t want you to end up hurt because of her.”

“I know, big brother,” she whispered, and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. They sighed together, in synch, then chuckled at that.

It had been a tense couple of days. It had been hard on the both of them. It had been hard on everyone. Alec had hated every second of this. Every rule they were breaking, every time he felt like Izzy wasn’t there enough, like she wasn’t paying enough attention.

They both kept things from each other, and they both knew it. He kept his… desires to himself, and he felt like somehow, she did the same. It just wouldn’t be good for anyone, if he told her or other people about the way he felt. It would only make things worse. What he felt, when he looked at men like Raj, was not something anyone needed to know. It wasn’t something that anyone was supposed to feel.

They stayed for a while like this, just talking a little and staying close, Izzy only leaving to get some bandages for Alec’s hands. He’d bruised himself on the punching bag again. She said nothing because she knew too much already.

Jace joined them after a while. He sat on the floor, legs crossed, as tired as they were. It was the first time they really could breathe since they’d decided to chase down that demon with the mundane blood. Izzy took care of Jace’s hands too. He hadn’t shown them to the med team, who’d been too busy on the mundane anyway. They were all a little lost, all quite tired, they all wanted to… go home?

They knew that they didn’t really have a real home to go back to. They’d lived in Institutes for most of their lives, mostly this one, and had only ever been to the Lightwood Manor for celebrations and vacations. What they craved was safety and comfort, and certainty that everything was going to be okay.

Right now, they had relatively little of that. They had to find out where the cup was, so Clary could find her mother, so they could maybe try and stop Valentine. Because, somehow, it felt like it was now what they, a twenty-three-year-old, a twenty-one-year-old, and a twenty-year-old, accompanied by an eighteen-year-old Shadowhunter-of-three-days, had to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 4 - Raising Hell!
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	4. Raising Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> Today's chapter is Raising Hell... Seraph blades, Magnus Bane, and a demon summoning are on the menu!
> 
> And of course, gayness!
> 
> Enjoy!

Forty-eight hours after rescuing Simon, Clary was still not benefitting from any restful sleep. Her mind had been torturing her for the entire night before, and it was still pushing images into her dreams, images of things that seemed to be happening to her. Things that seemed to have happened to her when she was younger. Her mother and a tall sorcerer man. Fear and pain, and loss and then nothing. 

She woke up with a start from another of those nightmares and almost collided with Izzy. It seemed that this was a habit, almost colliding with the Shadowhunter woman. Izzy muttered some words of reassurance and she swallowed. She couldn’t really gather the exact words but the tone was enough. Her mind was still reeling from the memory. 

“Izzy…” she whispered, and the woman in front of her blinked in confusion. 

“Izzy?” 

Clary blinked and now, she was sitting in front of Simon. What was her brain playing at right now? She needed her full capacities to be able to continue the search for her mom and deal with every new thing that was happening to her. 

“You alright? You seemed kinda freaked.” 

Maybe she’d just hit her head when Hodge had helped her start training her fighting skills. The man seemed not to be used to having opponents that had close to no training in the matter, and he’d gone quite hard on her. Which also explained the aches in her body. 

“Simon,” she muttered after a while, and he smiled. 

“This must have been one hell of a nightmare.”

“You have no idea.” Somehow she seemed to remember all of it almost perfectly. “I was strapped to this piece of furniture, and my mom was there, and she kept telling this man… to protect me. And then he reached his hand into my skull and pulled out my brain.” 

This was the only way she could manage to explain how it felt when he’d done the weird blue thing. Magic? Yes, magic. Clary frowned anyway. “Wait, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the infirmary still?”

Simon smiled at her a little sheepishly. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. With everything that has happened lately... We haven’t had much of a second.” 

“I know…” Clary said, looking down. “I… I wish I could have avoided bringing you into this. You didn’t deserve to be part of this mess.” 

Simon grabbed her hand and smiled reassuringly at her. “I’m okay. I am,” he paused, for dramatic effect, then continued, “Unscathed.”

“I just… I don’t want anyone to hurt you… because of me or because of something my mom did.”

“What is it she did anyway? They kept talking about a cup, and how you would know all about it.” 

“I…” Clary sighed and shifted, running her free hand through her hair. “So turns out I’m the daughter of this Valentine guy, who is basically like… the Voldemort of this world. Yeah… Mom lied to me about that… and about being a Shadowhunter. She hid away the thing that could help him control demons and create a new Shadowhunter army. The Cup. And so… everyone wants the Cup. So they can control everything.” 

Simon breathed out. “Well, wow.” He swallowed. “That’s… one hell of a story. It has some kind of “the fated daughter of the evil man” twist. You’re basically a YA heroine now.” 

“Would that make Alec Katniss?” Clary chuckled. 

“Or Legolas. So what would Clary Fray, YA heroine, do?” 

“Well. First I need to find a way to get my memories back. Maybe I saw my mom hide the Cup, and I don’t know about it yet.” 

“Was there something in your dream that could help? Maybe we could ask the... brain-taking guy.” Simon pointed out. 

“She called him Magnus,” Clary added, figments from her dream still remaining in her mind. Blue flashes, golden eyes, a tight-lipped smile on the sorcerer man. He hadn't been happy with her mom. 

“Magnus Bane?” 

“I… would have no way of knowing, but Magnus can’t be that common of a name, right?” Clary whispered. “Why that name?” 

“It’s Camille. The vampire woman that was keeping me prisoner? She was interrogating me about the Cup and when I told her your memories were blocked and she like… started cursing this Magnus Bane guy.” 

Clary’s eyes opened wide. This could be it. This could be… the best option. Their first lead, their first idea of what exactly they could do to save her mom, other than just wait. She bolted out of bed, talking one thousand words a minute about how wonderful Simon was and how he was the best and smartest person ever. She grabbed him and kissed his cheek, grabbing a sweater from the chair in her bedroom, before basically running down the stairs to Izzy’s bedroom. Where Izzy was… not. 

Clary rolled her eyes and continued running, this time to the main room. She caught sight of the other woman in the training room, practicing something with another Shadowhunter. She ran up there. 

Izzy was doing some regular fight training with Raj. He was less often on the field than her team, but they did enjoy training together. He was a good fighter. And Izzy liked seeing how Alec gave them side-looks every now and then when he saw Raj training with her. Her brother was hopeless. 

When Clary burst into the room, she quickly shooed Raj away and closed the door behind her. 

“What’s going on?” she asked. 

Clary started talking quickly, her voice going higher with excitement. She summarized everything she had learned from her dreams and from Simon, and Izzy grinned. “That’s amazing. Jace is on patrol, but we’ll update him the second he's are home,” she promised. 

Clary started going on about how they needed to act now, but Izzy managed to calm her down enough. “The warlocks are in hiding anyway. Even if we didn’t need the boys, we wouldn’t be able to find Magnus Bane.” 

Clary sighed and sat down on the bench in the room. “So what do we do then?” 

Izzy shrugged, picking up her whip, making it change back to its fluid form instead of its staff form, and rolled it up. Clary looked a bit defeated. “I could teach you how to use a seraph blade? You’ve been doing good with them, but maybe some practice in a controlled environment could do you good.” 

Clary’s eyes lit up for a second. “That would be cool!” She stood up and looked at Izzy. “What do we do, then?” 

“Well, first, you’re going to take one of my spare blades. We have a bunch of spares, but we have also our own blades made to measure,” Izzy explained. “I think you’ll be more at ease with one of mine, than one of Alec’s.” She chuckled and grabbed one of the blades from the armory. 

Clary took the blade in hand when it was given to her, and watched as the carvings on the metal surface lit up, glowing pure white, then flickered back off. “Why does it do that?” she asked. 

“The blades are made of a metal called adamas. It reacts to your angel blood.” 

“Like the witchlights?” 

Izzy nodded. “Exactly like those. The blade knows you’re a Shadowhunter. It can only be wielded by angel-blooded creatures. There’s a debate about whether or not Seelies are able to wield them. We haven’t let them try yet, so, for now, it’s purely theoretical.” She shrugged.

Izzy grabbed her own blade and, a second later, allowed it to light up. She grinned and looked over at Clary. “Allow the blade to become part of your body. That way it stays enlightened, and it keeps its demon-killing power.” 

“How do I do that?” 

Izzy put her blade in her holster and came up behind Clary, sliding her arm around her waist to stabilize her, and using her other hand to interlace with Clary’s hand and guide it in wielding the blade. “Make the blade part of you. Allow it to access your power," she whispered. 

Clary blinked. This really wasn’t the best position for her to focus on anything, with the way Izzy’s body was flush against her own. She swallowed, and closed her eyes for a second. 

“The adamas is calling out to your blood. Let yourself answer, this is how it’s supposed to work,” Izzy explained. “Visualize your fingers being the end of the blade.”

Clary tried to do just that. She grabbed the blade a little firmer and let herself open up, not quite that different to when she’d been at the vampire bar with Jace. She let her instincts take over, let her blood answer to the adamas. 

When she opened her eyes, there was a rush of energy in her body. Pure power, that she’d only rarely felt before. She’d always kinda thought of it as adrenalin, but right now she could feel the blade like it was her own hand. She could feel the metal activating something inside of her. Angel blood, angelic power. 

“Wow,” she whispered. 

She felt Izzy’s body move against her back as she chuckled. “Angelic power is the most powerful energy of all. Our runes and our blades allow us to tap into it, and use it in our fights, to enhance our mortal bodies with the energy of the Angels.” 

“I can feel it…” Clary added. She felt some kind of… bliss taking over her body with the power. She was smiling without realizing, feeling her soul and her body reacting to the adamas. Reacting to the power. 

Izzy gently let go of her, and let her continue the motions without her. The blade didn’t flicker. It seemed to be somehow even brighter than when Izzy wielded hers. 

Clary was full of raw angelic power. It was something Izzy had never really seen. Her entire family was in control, and they’d learned to fight and channel that power in combat. But Clary… she wasn’t like them, she wasn’t trained and raised in the Shadowhunter way. 

And watching her make a few somewhat good motions, with a blissful smile—she was so cute. Izzy took a deep breath and looked over to share a look with her brother, who she knew had been watching them. 

She didn’t get to see Alec, but she did catch sight of Simon walking fast towards the exit. Fuck. “Clary, Simon is leaving.” 

The red-head looked up at her. The blade flickered off. Clary started running towards the main room again, shouting after her best friend. Izzy let out a small sigh. These two were such a mess. Such a fun, interesting mess. She tidied up everything and put the weapons away, and walked back to where Alec was sitting, going through reports. 

 

\---------------

 

Magnus Bane was in the middle of teaching a young warlock how to make an easy power-up potion when the fire message came. The paper was perfectly white and the ink perfectly black, and the tight straight print script was the first clear indicator of where it came from: the New York Institute.

He let his pupil continue their work, and took the message out to his bedroom, to be alone to read it. He summoned a glass of red as well because if he was going to have to deal with the Clave again, he needed alcohol. 

He was being asked on a meeting… an exchange of service, for a price… And the thing they were offering… he put the letter down and switched the wine for a whiskey for a second. He downed it, and sighed. 

The Amor necklace. That ruby that he’d spent hours working on. He remembered it clearly, almost exhausting his magic so the jewel would keep his lover safe. His power had grown since then, but… he hadn’t taken up another task like this one. Not after everything he’d been through with Camille. 

It had been strange to have Camille in the same city these last few decades. They didn’t see each other, thankfully. Magnus did not know how he would react to spending longer than was necessary with her around. Would he fall again for her masterful manipulation? Would he come home drained of all energy, of all soul, empty again like he’d felt so many times when they were still close? 

He sighed softly. He had no idea what to do. He wanted the necklace back. Was it worth humoring the Clave? He stared at the message again. Clary Fray… Fray was the name Jocelyn had taken after leaving the Circle. And Clary was rather an uncommon name. 

He was curious to see what had become of the girl. And the necklace… He wanted it. He needed it, almost. Magnus had asked Camille to give it back to him when they’d fallen apart, but she had refused. And then, it had been taken by Shadowhunters… an occasion like this one would not present itself again. 

And what Circle member would come to a Shadow Realm rave? 

He grabbed the wine glass again and took a sip, standing up. He would go. He would go and retrieve the necklace, and tell the girl the truth about where her memories were. Magnus quickly changed into more party-appropriate clothing, and walked out of the bedroom.

He walked towards Elias, one of the most powerful of the other warlocks there, and informed him of his decision. Convincing him that he wasn’t completely insane and that he was going no matter what was a hard task, but Magnus ended up portalling to Hardtail, after bidding goodbye to everyone. 

 

\-----------------------------

 

Alec was pretending to be very busy with runing his already-runed arrows, but it didn’t keep him from being bothered, again, by Izzy. She was wearing a short, silver, glittery dress with feathers. It made Alec want to roll his eyes. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like fashion or clothing. It was just that he enjoyed practical stuff. He had refused to wear anything more than his denim shirt to the rave, for example. Fancy, out-there clothing was a little too… much for him.

“Your outfit isn’t practical,” he mumbled as she started playing with the arrows.

“What’s wrong with you this time?” Izzy replied, leaning her hip against the table.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, snatching the arrow out of her hands again.

His parabatai rolled her eyes and walked towards where all the blades were stored. She dragged her finger over the side of one of the swords, and smiled a little. “We’re going to a Downworlder rave. You could at least pretend you’re excited.”

“It’s a mission. Not a party,” he pointed out. “You’ll probably get ichor on your dress.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She rolled her eyes. Alec’s attitude wasn’t something she was in the mood for right now. Despite them talking it out a little a couple of days ago, Alec was still grumpy and she still was having none of it. “At least we’re doing something else than killing demons and going on patrol. It’s interesting.”

“Work isn’t supposed to be interesting.” Alec rolled his eyes and put down his seraph blade. “And besides, right now, interesting means shit show. Valentine is alive. He’s actively seeking the Cup. He threatens our entire world.” He grumbled. “And we’re helping his daughter. Who, by the way, we have no reason to trust. And who showed up out of nowhere. On top of that, we're gonna end up overpaying some warlock who may or may not have the information we need. So, no, Izzy, I don't find it interesting.”

Izzy smiled at him. “You’re done now? Happy?”

It took Alec a second, but he kinda smiled after that. Izzy shook her head fondly. She knew that sometimes, Alec just needed to rant away, complain until he could get everything out of his system, and then he was better afterwards. She didn’t agree with most of his points, but she understood them.

It was like… she felt that Clary had good intentions. She could see the softness in the woman, but Alec could only see a foreign element in the carefully crafted routine of their everyday lives. And yes, it amounted to a lot of things. Giving away a Shadowhunter treasure to a warlock on the off-chance it could get them something.

She walked closer to him, and Alec had a small smile again. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Izzy shrugged it off. “Just promise to give her a chance. She’s… she’s a good person. It’s not her fault that everything is happening right now because of her mom and her dad.”

“I know, I just…” Alec huffed. “She’s a stranger. She’s just… she’s not like us.”

Clary was new, she was hopeful, she was full of a fire that Alec didn’t think he’d ever really had in him. She didn’t follow the rules, even after learning them, because she didn’t think they were  _ right _ . And she was… gay.

That in itself didn’t pose a problem to Alec. It wasn’t the fact that she was that he couldn’t get over, it was the fact that she was talking about it, in such an open fashion. To him, it just wasn’t normal. They couldn’t talk about these things,  _ he  _ couldn’t talk about these things.

Alec hated the fact that she could just look at Izzy like she wanted to kiss her, and not worry about anything happening to her, while he hid, hurt, and kept that part of himself locked away so far inside of him that he thought that, if he kept going, it would just die away and he would be free.

 

\-----------------------

 

Magnus was early. Of course, he was. Damn Shadowhunters. Would they even be allowed entry in the club? If it was him, he wouldn’t let them in. He almost laughed at himself. He had had too much to drink already. 

Fuck. He just wanted to be done with this and to go home. What kind of idea was it to accept this meeting? Elias had been right, he was foolish, and too tempted to get the last reminder of his long lost love for Camille out of nephilim hands, and into his own.

He grabbed his mirror and played around with his makeup a little, head bumping around to the music of the club. It wasn’t his taste in music, but it was fine for a rave. People seemed to be enjoying themselves, and that was what mattered. It was too rare, in those difficult times.

Magnus didn’t like to show it, but he was worried, to his core, about the resurgence of Valentine and the Circle… it made him paranoid. He took another sip of his cocktail, and finished playing with his eyeshadow.

By the time he was done, he heard his name being called. He made the glass and everything disappear and stood up. Time for business now.

He recognized her immediately. Red hair and hazel-green eyes. She was the girl he’d bumped into at Pandemonium, almost a week ago. Interesting, that both she and the Circle  had resurfaced at the same moment.

“Clary Fairchild,” he exclaimed, a fake smile plastered on his face. “Grown into a beautiful young woman.”

“Magnus Bane,” she said, and his fake smile fell at the tone she was using. He didn’t like when young Shadowhunters talked down to him in such a way. Not when he had just been doing his job. “So you’re the one who stole my memories.”

“At your mother’s request,” he reminded, looking right at her. He saw her anger falter. Good. “She knew the risk.”

And just like that, he was in control of this again. He hadn’t really lost control, but the two Shadowhunters had needed a reminder that they weren’t the most powerful people in the room–he was. By far.

Calling his name, talking down to him… as if they ever had the leverage to do such a thing. Pathetic. He rolled his eyes and looked at the blond man next to Clary Fairchild.

“Show me the jewellery, Shadowhunter,” Magnus demanded.

Here it was. The ruby shone in the artificial light of the club and Magnus reached for it, only for it to be snatched away by the Shadowhunter. He almost sneered at that. The man’s smirk made him want to curse him. He did no such thing.

“I need to confirm its authenticity,” he pointed out.

He felt the magic against his palm. His own magic. He smiled softly. "Amor verus numquam moritur," he muttered. So many memories and aches swirled back to the surface for a second, before he pushed them back down. “True love cannot die." Cruel irony. His love for Camille had been true, but it hadn’t been reciprocated. “Oh, how I've missed this jewel.” He almost purred.

His contemplation of the jewel was cut short by the sudden demand from the Fairchild girl. He seemed to be taking too much time examining the necklace, and she wanted Magnus to complete his end of the bargain, giving her memories back. He sighed.

“I no longer have your memories. I fed them to a memory demon,” he said simply, looking at her.

He did feel a little bad not to be able to help her find her mother back. But Jocelyn had known the risk, and had asked of him to get rid of the memories. So he had. And it was better for himself anyway. He didn’t want to get too caught up in Shadowhunter affairs… not like Dot had been.

“Why?” Clary’s voice was a bit smaller, a bit more desperate.

“To protect you and the Cup,” he explained. “If Valentine ever captured me, he could torture Clary's memories out of me. Just like he tortured Dot.”

He hadn’t expected the worry on the girl’s face. Why would he? Why would the daughter of Jocelyn and Valentine care about a warlock’s safety?

“What happened to Dot?”

He raised an eyebrow. “She was taken, soon after your mother was. He’s been keeping her ever since. I’m unable to track her,” he said softly. “She could very well be dead.”

He’d been drunk when Dot had come to him, and he realized now that she’d been taken because he had refused to help her. He couldn’t believe he’d mocked her in such a way, pushed her away and basically called her  a sellout. He wasn’t much better than her.

“All because she wouldn’t betray your mother,” Magnus added, staring into the girl’s eyes. “You have good friends, Clary Fairchild.”

The girl didn’t answer. Her eyes were full of sadness and despair and Magnus felt for her. Curse his too kind nature. This girl looked like a kicked puppy, and he wasn’t one to leave a baby animal on the streets.  _ Valentine’s flesh _ . He drowned the reminder of his pain in another sip of a cocktail.

“I can be one of those friends,” he said softly. “Come with me, Clary. I can offer you protection no Shadowhunter ever could.”

She seemed to briefly consider it. For a moment, Magnus thought he would get this girl out of the fascinating manipulation machine of the Clave. Maybe one of the Shadowhunters, one of them could be taken out of their ranks and made into someone that wasn’t hateful.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Don’t be a fool. Your mother would want you to live.” Magnus got closer to her, trying to persuade her to leave with him.

“Then help me get my memories back from whatever demon you gave them to,” she hissed at him.

She was already one of them, wasn’t she? A naphil, just like every other out there. 

“Valentine is hunting you, too. And every moment we're outside my lair's protection is a moment Valentine gets closer to finding us.”

He wanted to save her. He really did. For some reason, she didn’t deserve to be left to those teenage Shadowhunters who wouldn’t be able to keep her safe. Magnus turned around, and opened a portal, using as much flair as he could. Sometimes, mortals could be convinced, with a bit of a display of power.

“Come with me. I won't offer again.” He tempted her with an outstretched hand, but she seemed to follow what the Shadowhunter by her side was saying.

“No. I won’t hide from my problems and neither should you.”

Magnus almost laughed at that. Oh, honey. He could hide out for centuries in his lair with his people, and never have to even think about the consequences. She was the one who needed him; not the contrary.

He was about to snarl a response to her arrogant Shadowhunter ways when someone shouted a warning, and an arrow came flying through the air, missing Magnus by inches, and plunged deep into the chest of a man that had been coming up behind them.

Magnus armed his magic immediately, putting up wards around the club. The Shadowhunter took out his seraph blade, and two other nephilim that had been going around the club keeping an eye on the shadow people that danced there came out of the crowd.

First, a woman, gorgeous and fashionable, and lethal in a hidden way. And then, a man. Tall, dark-haired, serious in the way that Magnus couldn’t help but be intrigued by. He almost ran past him, his bow in his hand, going to check on the man he’d just killed.

Who was this tall man that had just saved his life in the nick of time?

The man flipped his blade in his hand and a part of Magnus was suddenly very very interested. Goddamnit. He wasn’t about to get a crush on another of those pesky little Shadowhunters. Magnus had too much of a weakness for men who knew how to fight.

He heard one of them mutter, ‘Ave atque vale’ and his brain finally kicked back in. He dashed towards the portal that was still open. He was out of this shit. Clary tried to hold him back, but she failed, and Magnus portalled back into the safety of his home.

 

\----------------------

 

Clary stood in the night outside of the club, leaning against Izzy for support. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She guessed she could have known, she could have seen. She should have expected that it wasn’t going to be so easy. 

Izzy, Alec and Jace had been wary of the warlock, and she should have known. Now all she had was the button of his coat that she’d ripped off in trying to keep him from disappearing. Now Alec and Jace were basically yelling at each other, and Clary could barely gather what they were saying. She just needed all of this to stop.

“I get it!” she shouted, walking up to Alec, and staring right into his eyes. “You’re pissed. We lost everything, I ruined your entire life, and now we have nothing left. No leverage, no lead, nowhere to go.”

Alec didn’t reply. He just looked at her. He was right, she knew it. They were both right. Alec didn’t even have to care about her mom, because she didn’t matter to any of their lives. What mattered to them, was that necklace, and the Cup, and stopping everything, and Alec was right, she had made everything worse.

“I’m not going to apologize for it,” Clary added. “Not for wanting to find my mom, and not for wanting to do everything in my power to get there, no matter what the consequences,” she said. ”And I get it. You don’t care about it.”

“I don’t,” Alec replied bluntly.

“Then why the fuck are you here?” Clary asked.

Alec hesitated to reply. His eyes darted from Izzy back to Clary, then down to the floor, and Clary could see how distraught he was by that question.

“Because Izzy and Jace, trust you,” Alec finally said. “Because you’re a Shadowhunter.”

Clary looked at him. He didn’t trust her, and it made sense. She didn’t trust him either. She trusted the way he looked at his siblings, and how they were the ones that seemed to get some emotional reaction out of him. She trusted the way he cared about them. As long as Izzy and Jace were on her side, she knew Alec would be as well.

She nodded at him, then took a step away, sighing softly. The anger was slowly receding and now she was just… a bit empty.

“So what do we do?” Jace asked.

“... We could go back to the Institute. I mean… all we have is one of Magnus’ vest buttons.” Clary shrugged.

There was a silence, before Jace grabbed her arm, and looked at her. “The button. We can track it. Are you certain it’s his?”

Clary nodded and gave it to Jace upon request. As he walked a bit away from them, she looked at Izzy. The other woman smiled at her.

“If he can’t track it using a rune, Alec and I will use our parabatai tracking,” she explained.

“What does that mean… in practice?”

Izzy chuckled. “Alec and I are parabatai, bonded warriors. We have a special rune that allows us to use each other’s strength. It’s like… it’s a soul bond. We share a lot of things that way. And when parabatai track something together, the tracking energy is amplified, because we are using both our tracking runes and the parabatai rune is adding more angelic power.”

Clary didn’t really get it, but she nodded anyway. The more she learned, the more she was lost. For now, she was still at the “seraph blade kills demons” stage of understanding.

The magic surrounding Magnus’ lair seemed to be too much for Jace to track himself, so Alec and Izzy took the button. Clary watched, curious, as the siblings put together their energy. She wondered if they felt the same rush she’d felt when using the seraph blade earlier. A bluish-white energy wrapped around their hands, and a few seconds later, Izzy was moving away, a winning smile on her lips.

“Got him.” She chuckled, and walked back to Clary. She wove her arm with the woman’s and they all started making their way to the van, and to the address they’d gotten.

 

\-------------------

 

Magnus should have known. He should have been more careful. The words were swirling through his mind as he watched the Circle member walk over the bookshelf he’d tried to put in his way. 

The seraph blade was alight in his hand, and the sight of it made a part of Magnus cower back. He was old, he shouldn’t be scared. He shouldn’t feel like a warlock child in front of his first hunter.

Maybe the fact he was this afraid was due to his age. Maybe it was because he remembered what it used to mean to see runes from the corner of your eyes, or the specific bluish light of a seraph blade following your every move. He remembered death and he remembered the terror there was in those nights when he didn’t know whether he would wake up in the morning.

He recognized the hundreds of nephilim that had come before in this one’s tone, in the way he taunted. Defensive and aggressive magic swirled around Magnus’ fingers, as the Shadowhunter teased, threatened, promised great fear and greater agony.

“Stronger than that horned weakling I killed earlier.”

“Elias.” No. He should have listened. Why had he been so cocky again? So arrogant, so… ready for some excitement that he had left his people behind, for the second time in less than a week. Dot, and now Elias, and maybe even many more were gone.

“That was his name?” The Circle member shrugged. “Well, lucky for us, he sold you out before I took his warlock mark.”

A part of Magnus revolted at this idea. His mind conjured up images of fallen warlocks, bodies mutilated by Shadowhunters who had taken too much pleasure in hurting and killing an innocent person. He hadn’t even realized he’d dropped his glamor before the man smirked again.

“Cat eyes… so pretty.” The man watched him. “Would be a nice addition to my collection.”

Magnus barely had time to think before an arrow flew through the air and into the man’s thigh. And with that, Magnus gained back his spirit, and was able to knock the man out with a powerful burst of magic. He’d been tetanized before, fear freezing him like a deer in headlights. 

“Well done,” a voice said behind him. 

“More like medium rare.” Magnus turned around, a little smile hiding the remains of the fear that was only starting to move back. 

Alec watched as the warlock turned around and looked at him. He looked different than the glimpse he’d had of him in the club. Maybe it was the more natural lighting. Alec swallowed. The man was wearing makeup.

He was handsome too, elegant, and tall, and still full of nervous energy from the fight. His shoulders were broad and tense. Alec didn’t want to stare but he was staring anyway. The pictures in the Institute’s file didn’t do Magnus Bane justice. 

“I’m Magnus,” the man said as he walked towards him, a smile on his lips. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.” 

His voice was like nothing Alec had ever heard. 

“Alec,” he managed. 

There was blue on the jacket of the man’s collar, and silvery eyeshadow on his lids. Magnus Bane was looking at him. Alec didn’t know how to deal with that, with that look. With that look from those eyes. 

There was a noise of blades clashing together, and his brain started functioning again, though slowly. 

“Oh, uh... We should really... You know, probably get…” He mumbled, words escaping him. 

“Right, we should join the party,” the warlock quipped. 

“Right,” Alec whispered, and thankfully, his legs remembered how to walk. He moved out of the apartment, knowing the warlock would follow. 

Magnus stayed behind for a moment, and not only because he liked the view of the Shadowhunter walking away. His home was in ruins. There was a body on the floor, and everything was broken and thrown across the floor.

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. It wouldn’t be the last. Clary Fairchild was back, the Circle as well, and now the war that the Clave had somehow managed to avoid eighteen years ago was finally there. Maybe it was time for him to get involved too, to finally put an end to this, after everything his people had suffered.

“This fight's far from over.”

 

\-------------------------------

 

They fought, and they won–this time. 

Magnus stood in the middle of the living room, watching the people walk in and out. Counting the warlocks, trying to remember how many had been in his home originally, how many had died because of Magnus’ boredom.

There were Shadowhunters there too. He hated that they were there, but he knew he should be thankful to them. The tall blond that he’d seen earlier, Clary Fairchild, the gorgeous woman, and Alec. Too many of them, and yet they’d just saved him and his people. He swallowed heavily when Zoe walked into the room with the Fairchild girl.

He whispered a few words of reassurance to her, but they sounded empty to his ears. She’d been in danger because of him. Her father was dead because of him. He sighed, and looked back at the Shadowhunter girl.

“You protected her, didn’t you?” Magnus asked. “Risked your life for a warlock child.”

“She was in danger, I didn’t really have a choice,” Clary shrugged.

Magnus was surprised again by how she reacted. How she cared. How she wasn’t one of them entirely yet. But for how long?

“You always have a choice,” he replied. “Many would have chosen to let her die alone. You’re not like them, Clary Fairchild.”

At least Jocelyn had done one thing right. Maybe raising Clary amongst mundanes had been the healthiest option for this girl. The girl was looking at him with a sort of incomprehension in her eyes, and he almost smiled at that.

“Most Shadowhunters protect Downworlders out of a sense of duty, but you saved young Zoe because of what was inside your heart. Your mother did something right, there.”

The girl dissolved in babbling about how they needed to work together, and how he shouldn’t hide away from that battle, and he just… tuned out for a second. She knew nothing of his life. She knew nothing of how hiding away from battles usually was the only way he’d survived.

But well… she was a kind-hearted, hopeful young girl, and he was an old sentimental. And he’d already gotten the necklace. And despite everything, just for a moment, he found himself hoping for a Shadowhunter to be truly good. 

“Fine,” he finally accepted. “I will summon the demon. But you must make the demand.” He watched her, and how she immediately seemed a little wary of him, the second his tone became a little colder. Interesting, and to be expected. It was still curious to see how much of the Shadowhunters’ conditioning she’d retained through Jocelyn’s watered-down nephili education methods, and the week she’d spent with Shadowhunters. “Now, I warn you retrieving your memories will not be easy.” 

“I will do what I have to do,” Clary said, and Magnus hummed. He did appreciate a strong-willed person. 

“Alright,” he accepted. “But we’re not safe here.” His home wasn’t safe anymore. “The lair’s location has been compromised.” 

Magnus turned to the rest of the room, taking in the couple of warlocks still present, as well as the three other Shadowhunters. “Hold tight everyone, we’re about to move.” 

He let out his magic, allowing it to wrap around the entire building. Once he knew everything was in the hold of the power, he thought about where he wanted to go. Greenpoint was a nice neighborhood, he decided. 

He felt it rush through his blood, and suddenly the lair was moving, away from where it’d been, and up to Greenpoint. Clary gasped next to him as she felt the massive portal he had deployed to bring them there.

 

\---------------

 

The Courage in Combat rune was still burning into her upper arm when Clary finished the pentagram, hours after starting it. Izzy had been talking with Magnus in the background, chatting about the necklace he’d gifted to her, and about Alec’s tastes in… things. 

The artwork had been complex, but art was one of the things Clary had always felt drawn to. 

“Your artistry is beyond compare.” Magnus complimented as he walked into the room again. 

“I don't know about that.” Clary blushed. 

“Oh, the only other person I've known who could draw as well was Michelangelo, who was excellent in bed, I might add.”

Izzy huffed a giggle at that, a delighted kind of sound, and Clary noticed the way the warlock was looking pointedly at Alec in particular. He’d been flirting with the man since they’d moved from the original location to the new one, and the Shadowhunter seemed more confused than anything by it.

“Okay,” Magnus exclaimed. “We're ready.” He walked towards the side of the pentagram that was pointing away from the door and started rolling up his sleeves. “Everyone, take your place.” He clapped, and looked at them. Isabelle settled to his left, with Clary on her left, Alec to Magnus’ right, and Jace between Clary and him.

“For this specific kind of summoning, we must initiate a bond.” the warlock explained. “Once this bond is sealed, it cannot be broken until the demon retreats. No matter what happens, we must not let go of each other's hands.” He gave them all pointed looks, and they nodded in answers to those.

Magnus was the first to extend his hand, offering it to Alec.

Alec swallowed, looking at the outstretched hands, manicured fingernails, and the hand jewellery that dangled gently underneath. Magnus had been making innuendos for hours, and Alec had - unfortunately - enjoyed the way the warlock looked at him. He enjoyed the attention that was usually reserved to Jace or Izzy. He enjoyed that a man was looking at him like he was attractive. And he hated that he did.

He finally built up the courage to take the man’s hand. It didn’t mean anything anyway, it was just for the sake of the summoning ritual. His fingers locked firmly around Magnus’, and he felt it.

Power. It shook him to his core, made his heart skip a beat, the amount of power that passed through him, building up in the extremities of his other hand. He watched as the other man didn’t seem to be phased by any of it. There was something in the warlock. Something old Alec couldn’t pinpoint.

He took Jace’s hand, and saw the way he shook from the power suddenly cursing through his veins as well. Jace took Clary’s, and she audibly gasped at the force of it. She only hesitated a second before taking Izzy’s, and Izzy closed the circle by reaching for Magnus.

The power didn’t stop flowing through them. It flowed more freely now, running around in circles through their joined bodies, a flesh and magic barrier to keep the demon from escaping their pentagram.

“I will lead the ceremony, and you all must do exactly as I say,” Magnus ordered. “The demon's name is Valak.” He announced. “And at some point, he will ask for payment in exchange for Clary's memories.”

“What do you mean? What kind of payment?”

Magnus shrugged. Shadowhunters, who thought that dealing with demonic forces was done without any kind of consequence. People had to make deals with demons, not just ask for things without giving anything in return. Foolish Nephilim. “We will see. Let us begin.”

And for a moment, they felt nothing. Magnus chanted, and Clary wondered for a moment whether it would even work. Maybe the demon wouldn’t answer to the summoning. But the necklace Izzy was still wearing started pulsing.

They felt it. They felt the demon enter the room, come from the realm it had been in and settle in the middle of the circle they were forming. They felt it try and tear away at the magical barrier they were forming, pushing against the energy that kept it trapped. 

“Valak is among us. Do not break the bond.” Magnus reminded. 

It was hard to stay together. They grabbed at each other’s hands desperately. 

“It is time, the demon demands payment.” 

The Shadowhunters had not heard the demon speak, but they gathered a warlock would be more able to. 

“We must each relinquish a precious memory of the one our heart aches for,” Magnus shouted over the noise and the wind created by the demon. 

Izzy was the first to give hers away. A memory of Alec smiling at her appeared in front of her and she couldn’t help but smile back at the image. It was strange to see it this way, from an outsider’s perspective.

Clary followed her with a memory of her mother. Seeing her like this made the courage in combat rune a little less necessary. She was doing this so she could see her and hug her again. She was doing the right thing.

Alec let go of his memory. It displayed in the air, the smile of Raj, one of the Shadowhunters from the Institute. One of the men from the Institute. His stomach sunk. Bile rose to his lips and he shook his head. There was silence in the room. He could feel Jace’s eyes on him. He could feel the disgust.

“No.” he shook his head. “It’s not true! The demon deceived me!”

Magnus begged for him to stay in the circle, but he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take seeing this. It was wrong, it shouldn’t be displayed like this. It was something he should keep inside of him, and not… show. He let go of them and moved back, eyes pressed tightly together as to not see the way Raj looked back at him.

He wanted all of this to end. He wanted all of this to stop. The wall was solid against his back, and a part of him didn’t register the chaos he had caused. He just couldn’t take it anymore, he wouldn’t.

It’s only when Jace was taken by the demon that he moved and grabbed his other arm. The first emotion that registered through his mind was fear when the man laid down, unmoving, on the floor. If he was dead because of him… he wasn’t.

Alec walked away. Izzy tried to keep him back but he didn’t let her. He walked. If only he wasn’t like this. If only he could have shown Izzy too. Or Jace. It would have been simple to explain because they were siblings. Of course he loved them.

He didn’t love Raj. He couldn’t and he just didn’t. Attraction? Maybe. But it was a wrong one, and he shouldn’t have had that memory to begin with. If only he’d had a normal one. If only he’d been normal.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Alec.”

The warlock’s voice was  _ soothing _ . Alec couldn’t stand it. He turned for a moment, and met the man’s eyes. Softness, there, something he’d never seen in a warlock before. Softness and understanding and pain, and he wanted to push the man away now because no, he wasn’t one of them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  _ I’m not one of them. I’m not one of  _ YOU.

“You will.”

No. Alec wouldn’t. He would never be like this, no matter how much of himself he had to kill to achieve it.

 

\-------------------

 

They went back to the Institute. Jace went to the Infirmary for a while. Alec went to the training room. Izzy watched him go knowing she didn’t have the words to make him feel better, knowing that he would refuse her help no matter what she said. 

She joined Clary eventually, in her bedroom. The girl was sitting on her bed, with a sketchpad in her hands. She looked unscathed.

Izzy had no idea how it was possible for Clary to be like this. To be so fearless, and so stubborn in the face of danger. Izzy had a Courage in Combat rune as well… but even she had thought they were hopeless.

She wrapped herself further in her comfy hoodie and knocked on the door.

“Hey,” Clary smiled, and Izzy walked in, sitting on the bed next to her. 

“You know, that move you did launching into the tornado, that was pretty impressive,” Izzy said after a moment. “Pretty stupid too… but impressive.”

“I just acted,” Clary shrugged. “It just seemed like the right thing to do.” 

“But you lost your memories…” 

“My memories are less important than Jace’s life. And maybe even everyone’s lives.” Clary whispered, looking at the woman in front of her. “I didn’t want you to lose your brother.” 

Izzy sighed softly, looking away slightly. She could feel Alec’s pain and hatred of himself currently, and it was almost uncomfortable. She just wished he wouldn’t be this way. 

“How is he?” Clary asked. 

“I don’t know. He won’t tell me.” 

They sat in silence for a while. Izzy eventually sighed and stood up. “I will see you tomorrow. And we’ll be back on the hunt to find your mother, okay?” She said softly. 

“Okay.” 

Clary curled up in bed that night. And before she fell asleep, she felt for the stone on the necklace around her neck. She missed her mom. It was the only thing she had left of her. 

She closed her eyes, and thought about her. Her smile, the way she stood with her hands on her hips when she was mad at her. The way she gave her those crushing hugs when she was sad. 

An image formed in her mind. Her mom laying suspended in mid-air, with a man looking down at her. A man that greeted Clary by her name. And demanded the Cup. Valentine. 

For a second, Clary thought to stand up and tell everyone, but the exhaustion from that day’s adventures pushed her deep into sleep. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 5 - Moo Shu To Go
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	5. Moo Shu To Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> Today's chapter is Moo Shu To Go... Meeting Maryse, not being enough, and kidnappings!
> 
> And of course, gayness!
> 
> Enjoy!

Alec laid on his bed until he was certain the Institute had fallen asleep. As he did most nights, more and more often lately, he stood up, got into training gear, and walked to the training room. He wrapped his fists, deciding that broken skin and bones weren’t something he wanted tonight. It was easy to unwrap them and change his mind anyway. 

Clary hated him, Jace was disgusted by him, and behind Izzy’s smiles and words, he knew she felt as empty as he did. Alec couldn’t get himself to care much about the way Clary pleaded for him to give the necklace back. It was time for them to follow the rules, and stop running around like they were allowed to do so. 

He didn’t understand what had happened the day before. He didn’t understand the fear and the shame at seeing Raj’s face appear in front of him this way. 

His fists started hitting the bag, and he felt the hits through his body. It was comforting in a way he knew wasn’t exactly right. 

And there was that man. Magnus Bane. Tall, and handsome and free in a way that made Alec ache for the same freedom. He talked about sex with other men as if it was something that people did, and he called him ‘pretty’ like it was allowed for men to call each other pretty. 

Alec didn’t know if he wanted to be called pretty by that man, not when it felt so right, and not when it made him blush. 

He shouldn’t be thinking about the way Bane looked at him like he was beautiful, in a way that was so devoid of any shame, and any respect for the established order. He couldn’t be thinking about how a part of him desperately wanted to spend more time with the warlock. 

It was as if he’d been hexed as if the man had put on him a spell that made him think more and more about Magnus Bane and the way he said _ ‘Alexander’ _ . Shadowhunters weren’t supposed to think of Magnus the way Alec was thinking of him now. 

Magnus was known for his hatred of people like him. He was known for the angry magic around Shadowhunters’ throats, and broken bodies, and savagery. Alec wasn’t supposed to look at him, look at his eyes and see wounds drowned in alcohol. 

The way the man said there was nothing to be ashamed of was an insult to everything Alec knew. Warlocks… warlocks couldn’t know what was right and wrong, because they didn’t know the law the way Alec did. 

No matter that his mind provided him with the image of  _ ‘Magnus Bane _ ’ signed at the bottom of the first ever copy of the Accords that was encased in the Accords’ Hall in Alicante. 

 

\----------------------

 

The last couple of days had been the most frustrating of Clary’s life. The morning after seeing the vision of her mother and Valentine, Clary had told Alec and the team about the necklace and all that had gotten her was for it to be locked away. 

She was in the training room with Jace this time, trying to hone in some little skill she actually had. Clary was quickly realizing that whatever she was able to do instinctively was nothing next to Jace, Izzy and Alec. They’d trained for years, decades even. 

They were soldiers in a war that didn’t end. This was their life, just not something they did, not a job. It was their destiny. It was a bit scary. Because it meant it was Clary’s destiny too. It meant it was… what she was supposed to do. Not art school. Demon hunting. 

She laid down on the floor, rolling her eyes. “Ugh. How are you still going?” She asked. 

Jace looked like nothing had happened at all, and like she was just walking through the park, while Clary was sweating and panting. The man shrugged. Clary still didn’t really trust him after the stunt he’d pulled a few days ago with the motorcycle. But he wasn’t that bad. Just to be kept at a certain distance for now.

“I’m used to it,” he smiled and gave Clary his hand for her to stand up.

Clary got up and moved to sit on the bench, looking at the rune marking the top of the safe where her necklace was locked. It wasn’t fair. Portal shard or no portal shard, this was her only way to her mother. 

“Why can’t we just… draw the rune and get it ourselves?” She asked. 

“Because we don’t have security clearance. The safe will know it.” 

“How so? Is it some kind of… angelic energy thing again?” Clary sighed. 

“Nope. It’s all digital. Alec’s stele is known to the system as being his. And since he has clearance, the lock recognizes that. Just pure old digital key.” Jace explained. “Our files have everything on them. Personal info, height, weight… anything the Iron Sisters need to make our weapons. Our steles, our seraph blades, and our signature weapons. Izzy’s whip is on her file, and so is Alec’s bow.” 

Clary hummed. “That’s a bit insane. Does it track you too?”

“It can track our runes.” Jace smiled. “But it’s better. If something happens to us, people know what happens.”

Clary wasn’t that sure about that. It was a little too… controlling for her taste. It reminded her of sci-fi novels about totalitarian regimes, and world history classes.

“Is there a file about me?” She asked. 

“Yes. Since we rescued you after you were attacked by that demon. We’ve been building the file ever since. Date of birth, stele, etc…”

“That’s creepy,” Clary muttered. Jace just shrugged away, and left her to go get a shower, and get to patrolling. Clary didn’t have the training for that yet. All she was allowed to do was stay there and wait. 

She talked with Hodge, Jace and Izzy the most. A little with Raj, the man Alec seemed to be into. Alec hadn’t talked to her much since the demon attack… in truth, he hadn’t really talked to anyone. He spent most of his time training, working, or going out on patrols, and kept his jaw set. He’d forbidden the others from saying anything to anyone, about what happened. 

Clary wondered if she should talk to him. She had her own experience about messy coming-outs, and being gay, and trying to repress it. It probably wasn’t as bad as it could have been, because Simon and his family had been supportive, and Jocelyn had come around after some help by Luke. 

Izzy seemed to be alright with Alec being gay. Jace had had a weird look on his face when he’d seen the picture of the man, and when he’d seen Alec’s reaction. 

He probably wouldn’t have much support. And Clary knew how terrifying it could be. She just wished he could help. He wouldn’t let her help, but she wished she could anyway. Show him it was okay to be who he was. Show him he had support and love anyway. 

She sighed and stood up, leaving the training room and going back to her room. She showered and changed. Again, the thought of her mother being in Valentine’s hands while she was stuck here with the necklace lying away in a vault for no reason felt… unfair. Horrifying. 

She ended up sitting on a bench in a corridor at the very end of one of the wings of the Institute, alone, waiting for time to pass by and maybe soften Alec enough that he would consider giving it back to her. At least so she could see her mom again.

She was moping and moping, when Izzy found her. 

“There you are,” the woman said happily. She was wearing thigh-high boots with a gravity-defying heel, and a partially zipped up dress over a grey and black bra. Izzy only wore these shoes when she was in the Institute, she had other pairs of (still insanely high but more stable) boots. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine. Just… wondering what I’m doing here right now. What we’re all doing.” she whispered. 

“I understand. And to be honest, I have no idea if we’re even waiting for actual orders, or if we’re just… spending time doing nothing that is helping the situation.” 

“Has Alec even changed his mind?” Clary asked, scooting to one of the ends of the benches as Izzy sat down by her side. 

“He hasn’t,” she whispered. “He’s an ass… but he does mean well… The necklace is dangerous.” 

“If it’s dangerous for you, then just give me the necklace and let me take the risks on my own,” Clary replied. 

“There’s no you anymore. You’re not on your own. You’re a Shadowhunter, you’re part of this. Part of us.”

This wasn’t what Clary wanted to hear. And it wasn’t exactly soothing either. Being a Shadowhunter seemed to be about being part of this great war machine, a pawn, not an individual. It seemed to be about following orders. And Clary… she didn’t know if she wanted that. All she wanted right now was her mom. 

“I know it’s cruel to tell you to sit down and wait, because it’s your mom. You love her and it shows.” Izzy whispered, reaching to take Clary’s hand and squeeze it. “And that will never change.” 

“I love her more than anything… she’s… one of the only people I had growing up.” 

“What’s your mom like?” Izzy asked and Clary smiled immediately. 

“She’s kind, fun. Warm. She’s protective too. She’s the kind of person you always want to be around.” 

“She sounds more like a friend than a mom.” Izzy chuckled, and there was a slight bewilderment to her tone that Clary didn’t quite catch.

“I don’t know. To me that’s what a mom is like…” she answered. 

Izzy fell into silence for a moment, looking at her hands. That wasn’t what her mom was like. She didn’t really have a mom, she had a mother, she had someone to push her to be better and always make her strive for what was the best for her and for the family.

She looked up at Clary, who had kept talking about how amazing her mom was, and Izzy was struck with how adorable Clary looked and sounded right now. In the late morning light of the end of March, streaming through the window. Her hair looked softly red, her skin looked pale and pink, and she looked incredibly soft.

Izzy didn’t think that was what she looked like when she talked about her mother. At all. She swallowed softly and stood up. 

“Come on. Let’s go get something from the cafeteria, okay?” She grinned, keeping Clary’s hand in hers.

Clary let herself be pulled up, and let Izzy keep her hand in hers, blushing a little as she walked behind the dark-haired woman, towards the elevator. They kept holding hands until they reached the lobby, and walked out of the elevator. They were walking together towards the ops room and all the screens, Clary asking questions about what she’d learned in the morning, with the files and the computer system, when there was a noise behind them. 

One of the doors opened on a portal, and a tall woman stepped through it. Izzy let go of Clary’s hand immediately at the sight of her. Clary frowned but said nothing, feeling as Izzy tensed next to her when her name was called. 

“Isabelle,” the woman said, raising a dark eyebrow. Her eyes looked over Izzy’s body and her mouth had a displeased pout. “Dressed to impress I see.” She said coldly, her eyes stopped on the necklace Izzy was still wearing. The ruby she’d gotten from Magnus as payment for defending the warlocks. “And you’ve been playing with the family heirlooms.”

Clary didn’t know who this woman was or why she was talking to Izzy this way, but she decided that maybe diverting the attention to her was a good idea, on this one. “Hi. I’m Clary Fray.”

“Clary Fairchild,” the woman corrected, and now Clary was really wondering who the fuck she thought she was. “You look just like your mother.” Her eyes raked over Clary as well and Clary felt the judgement through her gaze. “We know all about you in Idris.”

Right. Idris. Shadowhunter homeland, somewhere in the Alps in Europe. Izzy had explained that at some point in the last week, but Clary hadn’t really had time to think about it. She’d been the witness to at least one instance of Alec and Izzy bickering and complaining in French to each other, and one of Jace cursing in German.

“How's Max?” Izzy asked, looking the woman straight in the eyes - a feat Clary was incredibly impressed by, “We all miss him.”

Max. The Lightwood youngest. Izzy, Alec and Jace’s younger brother.  _ Cute but clingy. _

“Robert's picking him up at the Mumbai Institute.” The woman replied, then immediately moved to the next order of business. “Where's Jace? We have a situation that has to be handled now.”

And with that, she left, bumping her shoulder into Izzy’s and pushing her aside. Clary gently reached to rub her friend’s shoulder. Izzy took a deep breath. 

“Well, that's my mom. The great Maryse Lightwood herself.” 

 

\-----------------------------

 

Alec hadn’t wanted to be left alone with the girl. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice, orders were orders, but he would have even prefered going with Izzy to see Meliorn. Because Meliorn wasn’t a newbie Shadowhunter that threatened his entire family and half of his soul. 

Maryse had given orders, and orders were to be respected, so he walked back to the training room where the girl still was. He avoided looking at Raj. He didn’t even want to think about the man, every thought of him now coated with disgust and shame and fear. 

Izzy had said it was okay. It wasn’t. It wasn’t okay, if it was, he would know it. Shadowhunters couldn’t be that way. They couldn’t, because then it would mean not passing down the bloodline, it would mean the end of their kind. And with the end of their kind came such great doom for the mundane world. 

Vampires and werewolves, killing and turning and eating. Warlocks, taking, hoarding, pillaging. Seelies, tricking, and playing, and leading more and more mundanes into the Wander Woods. Demons, taking over the world, creating more warlocks, killing more and more people. 

That was what it meant if he was like this. Pain, and doom, for billions of innocent people. He ground his teeth and walked up to the girl. Clary Fray. Clary Fairchild, many called her. It was written Fairchild on her Clave file now. Fairchild. Her mother’s bloodname. Strange, seeing as she was a Morgenstern. 

She was twirling a staff around, trying desperately to get a balance that she didn’t have. A balance that came with years of training. Alec had never seen a Shadowhunter her age so… useless. Twirling a staff around with an untrained weak wrist was absolutely not even remotely close to fighting. 

She’d been there for more than a week now. It felt like way too long. Alec knew she was going to be there forever now. It didn’t mean he didn’t want her gone, back to her mundane life with her mundane friends. 

“Looks like we’re stuck with each other,” she said. 

_ Shut up.  _ Alec thought. Just shut up. He grabbed one of the other weapons and looked back at her. 

“For what it's worth, I think your mom was too tough on you out there.” Clary continued. 

“She was not,” Alec replied, walking closer, taking a deep breath. “I made mistakes, I expected punishment for them. I would have preferred cleaning up blades, but I’m now supposed to babysit you.” 

“Moms are supposed to be empathetic. They’re supposed to be on your side.” 

“Who taught you that? Jocelyn Morgenstern?” Alec raised an eyebrow, almost smiling when the taunt caught Clary. “Maryse was there as our commander, not our mother. I don’t expect leniency from my commander.” 

There was a short silence, before the girl grabbed her staff with two hands - in a position that was so not intimidating to Alec - and stood up straighter. “Come on, knock me on my ass, you’ll feel better.” 

“Don’t make me say you’re right about something,” Alec shrugged, before looking at her stance. 

It was bad. He hadn’t seen a stance like that since Max had been five years old. They would need to work for hours on her for her to at least not be a hindrance in the field. Let alone an asset. Jocelyn had been foolish to let her daughter go untrained, when she knew what was coming. Now, Clary was untrained, unprepared, and a liability. A threat to her own safety, with her great ideals and her hot-headed moments.

Jace’s hot-headedness was manageable because he was also one of the most brilliant Shadowhunters this side of the Atlantic. He was strong and fierce, and he could manage himself in a fight. Clary was just reckless. She had none of the abilities to defend herself from the trouble she got into. 

“Plant your feet wide,” he ordered, and she changed her stance. He used his staff to push her feet until they were in the right position. “If you’re not solid on your feet, you don’t have balance. If you don’t have balance, you can be knocked over much easier. If you’re on the floor, you’re most likely to be dead.” 

“Why did you let your mom say those awful things about Izzy?” 

Alec parred her attack easily. It was weak, and her body was readable. “Don’t step into the strike. Step through it. Don’t block your strength at the hit you’re trying to land. Allow it to push further, that way, you can use the momentum for following strikes.” He explained. He licked his lips. “I defended her. As much as I could. The law is hard but it’s the law, we don’t meddle with Downworlders.” 

“Is it the law that says you have to hate yourself and hide who you are?” 

Fuck. It was starting. This was why Alec hadn’t wanted to stay alone with her. He didn’t want to talk about his desires, he didn’t want to talk about hers, he didn’t want to talk about anything that was remotely close to his feelings. 

“This is neither the time nor the place,” he replied, and striked, landing a hit on her arm.

She gasped and brought a hand to the place he’d hit. “That hurt.” 

“You don’t learn anything by being comfortable. Skill comes with pain. That’s something your mother should have taught you a long time ago.” 

Clary raised an eyebrow. “What the problem with you and my mom?” She asked. 

Alec sighed, looking at her. “The problem is now, I have to do the work she should have done when you were a kid. Basics of combat training. Basics on the Shadow World. Izzy, Jace and I have to take time out of our already busy schedule, to take care of things she should have taught you years ago.” 

She attacked him, and she’d applied the things he’d said before. There was more energy behind her strikes. Still far from enough, but better. He parred and parred. She managed to knock the staff at of his hands, but she was still not good enough. He dodged her hit, grabbed her staff, and threw her to the ground like a ragdoll.

“You need to work on your defense.” 

“I’m sorry my mom didn’t make me a mindless, emotionless soldier,” Clary replied. 

He gave her a hand so she could stand up and she accepted it. Alec watched her for a moment. 

“She didn’t prepare you for this world. She thought you arriving her at eighteen, untrained, unfocused, unprepared, useless to all of us, would be a good idea. She failed you.” 

Clary crossed her arms. “She’s still my mom. She raised me to be respectful. She raised me to love who I am. And I need to find her. And I’m stuck here with you who needs to seriously shut up about her. You don’t know her.”

“I don’t. I don’t respect the way she raised you either. To be weak. To be emotional. But don’t think we’re not looking for her. She’s still a Shadowhunter. Fairchild by blood, Morgenstern by union.” 

“Fray by choice.” 

“Fray by necessity,” Alec corrected. 

Clary tried to attack again, but he dodged easily. She was already tired. Weak. 

“How do you know the Clave is actually searching for her? They don’t tell anyone anything.” 

“Because Valentine has her. They want Valentine dead.” Alec shrugged and put away the staff. “I’ll ask Hodge to put you on a training regimen. We’ll get you to be at least less useless soon enough.” 

He was walking away from her and back to his room, when she grabbed his arm to stop him. He closed his eyes and grinded his teeth for a second, before turning around, pushing her away slightly. 

“What?” 

“Simon,” she started, and Alec rolled his eyes. Not the mundane again. Couldn’t he just stay out of trouble? “He called me. He’s not alright, Alec, I think he was bitten by a vampire at the DuMort.” 

“Biting does nothing. It’s only a problem if he drank some of the vampire’s blood. If they just took some from him, he’s going to be fine. Maybe a bit anemic for a moment, but nothing bad.” Alec replied. Another thing she should know by heart. 

“Please,” she said softly. “Can we check on him? Just an hour. I’ll stay with you the entire time. No one has to know.” She whispered. 

 

\---------------------

 

“Shadowhunters saved your ass,” Catarina said as she walked through the door of Magnus’ apartment. He huffed, looking up at her. 

“Do you have to be so… loud about it?” 

The woman sat down in front of him and Magnus smiled back at her. He was aware that Shadowhunters had saved his ass. He was deeply unhappy about it. So unhappy that he was also considering saving the ass of one of the Shadowhunters. The Lightwood man. 

Catarina Loss was one of his oldest friends. A powerful, amazing warlock. They’d known each other for a couple of centuries now. Her and Dot were the two people Magnus was the closest to currently. And Dot… they had no idea where Dot was or if she was okay. She probably was dead. Catarina was keeping herself busy by mothering Magnus so she wouldn’t worry about her girlfriend being gone. 

“I’m going to remind you I told you that this would happen if you meddled in Shadowhunter business again. You did, several times now, and knowing you, you’re going to do it again.” 

“Sometimes I wonder how both my desire to get into trouble by dealing with Nephili business and my hatred for said Nephilim can coexist,” Magnus shrugged and stood up, going to the kitchen to make some tea. 

Catarina huffed as she stood up to follow him, and leaned against the counter. “What else are you going to do for them? You’ve done way more than enough for not enough money.” 

Magnus finished making tea but kept his back turned away from her. Why didn’t he feel as angry as he usually felt when he looked at the Lightwood man? He should be snarling with rage and pain at the very sight of a Lightwood, but yet, all he wanted to currently do was grab him and wrap him in a blanket and tell him being gay wasn’t as wrong as he thought it was. 

“I don’t know yet,” Magnus shrugged. “Maybe ruin the life of one of them by making him understand being gay isn’t something to be ashamed of.” 

“And how would that ruin his life?” Catarina raised an eyebrow. “How would that change anything for him?” 

His plan had obvious holes in it. In all honesty, it was more holes than anything, but the plight of a pretty closeted man was always something Magnus wanted to answer to. He was too kind for his own good, after all.

Besides, maybe he just wanted to go on one date and have fun and forget it all. Maybe he just wanted to flirt and watch the Shadowhunter squirm uncomfortably. Maybe he just… wanted more excuses to see how he was doing. To see if he was okay. To maybe help him… help him care for himself. 

The way Alec had looked at him like he wasn’t a monster, when they’d looked at each other. It was all so troubling, and it kept being on Magnus’ mind. Just for the sake of trying… he could just… ask him for a drink. Just to check on him. 

He would call him when Cat was gone. 

 

\-------------------

 

Simon hugged Clary tightly when she walked up to him. He hadn’t seen her in days, since he’d stormed out of the Institute. It hadn’t been long, but Clary had changed so much during the last week that he felt like even an hour away was a lot. 

Surprisingly, it was neither Jace nor Izzy that had come with her, but Alec, the one that hasn't stopped being an asshole to the both of them. Maybe he had revealed another great secret of her existence to Clary and that made him a part of the gang now. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call back sooner,” she muttered as they were still hugging. “It’s been a mess lately.”

“It’s fine. It’s probably just a cold. No need to freak out too much, not the end of the world.” Simon shrugged it off. He still felt weird though. A bit nauseous in a way. 

“The world’s been ending for a thousand years, you get used to it,” the other man mumbled. Simon didn’t want him to be there, or to be included in the conversation.

These Shadowhunters people tended to just worm their way into everything. Private conversations, people’s lives… Simon would have preferred having Clary to herself, without her cult-ish friends. Maybe, if he took her out of that place for a second, got her alone, maybe he could reason with her.

“Did you two have to meet so close to the loft? There are eyes all over this place. You’re wanted by the entire Shadow World.” He was talking directly to Clary now, ignoring Simon’s presence. 

What was with this man? Why was he so annoying all the time, so controlling? Clary shut down his worries and turned back to Simon.

“Okay, what’s happening?” She asked. “You send me a panicked message, and suddenly, there’s nothing? Just a cold?” 

“Really, it’s nothing. I think I was just in shock from everything that’s been happening around me lately.” Simon muttered. “Jocelyn, you… vampires, demons, shadowhunters…” 

Alec tuned out of their conversation around them. He walked a couple of feet away from them and grabbed at his bow. There was something comforting about the weapon. It had always been his favorite, even as a child, when he would look through the Armory of Lightwood Manor, the Academy, or the Institute. The bows were… they weren’t like blades or staffs or axes. They required different skills, more tactics, more of a good eye. 

He loved how different it was, and how comfortable he felt with a bow. He was good with blades and other weapons as well, of course, but bows? They were his favorite. They were his comfort. 

There was a noise on his left, suddenly, footsteps, a jump… someone was watching them. He gave Clary a seraph blade and told her to try and defend herself if anything happened, and went to investigate. 

There was nothing. No one. 

 

\------------------

 

Meliorn knew why they were here. He knew why Isabelle wasn’t by herself. With Clary Morgenstern on the loose, and Valentine preparing for war, they did not even trust Isabelle to accomplish a task such as asking him questions. 

Meliorn was older than he looked. He’d seen how Shadowhunter women hadn’t been many before a couple of generations ago. He’d seen how Isabelle was maybe the third of her family to have her Shadowhunter service be mandatory. 

They did not trust her because she was a woman. Because she was a woman that willingly slept with Shadow People. They’d sent a man with her this time. A man who was too arrogant. So young, yet thinking he knew so much about the Shadow Realms… Isabelle had her own prejudices, but she usually let him speak long enough to be heard, at least partly.

“Is it true that your queen has broken off communications with the Clave?” Isabelle asked. She was acting the way she usually did, not caring about her brother’s presence. Her eyes were as dark as when they usually saw each other. She stood close to him, and he could easily reach to pull her close, or to unzip the front of her dress. She always dressed so… practical when she came to see him. 

“You've heard that's the case?” he asked. She smirked, knowing it was a yes.

“Yes,” she replied. Isabelle licked her lips. “Does it have anything to do with the scouts you sent out after Valentine?” 

“Is there another reason you can think of?” Meliorn rose an eyebrow. She knew what he meant. She was so used to the way he evaded questions, the way he answered without really answering. 

“Butterflies can mean only one thing. Fair Folk are in mourning.” 

Meliorn rolled his eyes as the man’s voice resounded. Isabelle would have realized so in a second. She wasn’t as dumb as people thought she was. He would never have continued such a relationship with her if she was… or maybe he would have. A prime source of nephili intel, a gorgeous body, and all those nice runes that were so much fun to play with in bed… 

“The scouts are dead,” Isabelle said and took a step away from him. Meliorn looked at her. Brilliant, brilliant woman. “That's who you're mourning. Valentine killed them.”

“Did you two even need to come here, dear?” He asked, and moved away as well. 

“If that's true, Valentine needs to be stopped,” the man said. “Don't you agree? Why break the Accords now when there's a threat?”

Young shadowhunters who didn’t know anything. Meliorn took a deep breath and stayed facing away for a second. No need to get aggressive when in a room with two Shadowhunters who came to inspect and demand information. He didn’t want more trouble with the Clave.

“Perhaps the Accords don't provide equal protection for all Shadow Realms,” Meliorn said and looked at them. Isabelle looked back at him, with those firey eyes. She knew he was right, but she would never say it. “Perhaps all threats don't affect all of us the same way.”

“Valentine threatens everyone,” the man added, and Meliorn swallowed. 

Again, defending the Queen’s wishes to these young Nephilim was proving to be harder than he thought. They were so… eager. So sure of their own strength. They knew nothing of the Shadow Realms.

“Those who antagonize an enemy stand to lose more.”

“Which is another way of saying you'll side with whoever wins.” 

Isabelle did not need the explanation of what he’d just said. She knew exactly what he meant. She was looking at him with colder eyes now, but he didn’t budge. Meliorn knew that it was normal, for a Shadowhunter to believe they were the fiercest, to believe that siding against them was the wrong choice. 

He made that clear, and dismissed them, walking further into his home. Isabelle knew better than to follow, and she would keep her brother in check. Meliorn had to report to the Queen. Make sure she knew that the Shadowhunters thought she was in the wrong. 

 

\------------------

 

For all his talk of protecting them and them not straying far, Alec hadn’t been able to do shit about the people that had just abducted them. Nor had he been there when Simon had been taken in the backroom of the Chinese restaurant they were keeping them in. 

And now there were werewolves and a fire, and they were searching after the Cup somewhere Clary knew it wasn’t. She’d just wanted to stall, until the shadowhunters could come and get them. But now, she was trapped in a container. All she had was a witchlight, and she had the gut feeling no one would find her. Not here. 

She had a stele too, she realized. Except said stele wasn’t going to do shit for her because she didn’t know how the fuck to use it. There had to be a rune to unlock something, or to burn the metal away but she didn’t know them. She didn’t know anything about what she was supposed to do now.

For a second, she understood Alec’s earlier words. She understood why he was so angry at her mom for not teaching her those things. It didn’t make him or this world any less fucked up, but it made sense. She wasn’t trained for this. All she could do right now was pray for someone to save her. She hated it. She hated having to wait around for people to take care of her. She couldn’t imagine what Alec and the others felt about it.

Clary sighed. What runes did she know? Sight, clairvoyance, angelic power, courage in combat, iratze, protected…. Nothing useful. Not really. She sat down and stared at the witchlight that flickered a little in her hand. That something like this could feel her doubt wasn’t something Clary was used to. This world, this weird mix between technological prowess, and medieval-style magic and fighting was unsettling. 

All she could do was wait. So she waited for a while, until she heard the door open. She looked up curiously. 

Luke. He was standing at the door looking at her. “I finally found you, Clary,” he said, and she moved backwards, pushing herself to her feet as fast as possible. 

“Stay away from me!” She ordered, grabbing the stele and brandishing it as a weapon in front of her.

“Don't be afraid,” he said, in a tone that was supposed to be soothing. Clary stepped backwards again. “I traced Alaric's car to the pier when he didn't return my calls. I'm here to help you.”

She didn’t believe him. She’d heard him. “Oh, really? I heard what you said at the precinct. You told those creeps the last 18 years of your life were a lie.”

The wound was still there, the pain had been there the entire time. The knowledge she didn’t have Luke anymore had been so painful and so confusing. Luke had been a permanent fixture in her life since the very beginning. He’d always been there. He was in the background of almost all of her childhood memories. But nothing he said now, nothing he was saying about Valentine’s men and protecting her made sense.

“Don't come any closer. You want the Mortal Cup, just like everyone else.”

She kept the stele held up towards him. It was stupid. She knew it was nothing more than a fancy pencil. And yet, it was the only thing she had now, against the man she thought would always protect her. 

“You know you can't cast spells with that thing?” He pointed out.

She was about to reply when he grabbed her, inhumanly fast. Clary shuddered. Not human either. No one had ever really been human, it had all been a lie.

“You need more training,” he said as he grabbed her and threw him over his shoulder with an ease that she couldn’t wrap her mind around. His words echoed Alec’s. He was taking her somewhere safe, he said, but she didn’t believe him. 

On the way to his car, they bumped into Jace and Alec, and they managed to take Luke down. And finally, she was with people she trusted. Jace wrapped his arm around her and then ran off. 

Luke was laying on the ground, a pained noise coming out of his lips, and Clary wanted to leave him there and never see him again. A part of her, the small, human, part that was still there somehow, was sad. The rest of her, the shadowhunter, wasn’t. She was a bit afraid of what it meant, so she didn’t think further about it, she just ran. 

When they reached the Chinese restaurant, Izzy had gotten Simon out of the back room. Clary ran to him the second she saw him. Luke had taken her cuffs off, thankfully. 

“We gotta get out of here!” Simon said soon after, but it was too late, they were already surrounded by werewolves. 

The Shadowhunters got ready for a fight, Simon and Clary standing in the middle of the circle Jace, Izzy and Alec were forming. It was terrifying like this. Night had fallen, smoke from the fire Simon had started was seeping out of the restaurant. And now there were wolves, giant wolves with neon green eyes, that were watching them. 

She felt something inside of her shudder in fear. A bigger, much bigger wolf walked out of the restaurant.

“Everybody get back, it’s the alpha!” Jace shouted, and they all moved back slightly, keeping their formation tight. 

Clary could see the tension in Izzy’s shoulders. She could see that this wasn’t just a couple of demons. Or a couple of vampires. Somehow, they were much more afraid right now. 

They had talked a little about Downworlders and the different species. Warlocks, half-demon, half-human, with their magic powers. Seelies, half-demon, half-angel, closer to Nephilim, but still way too demonic and dangerous. Vampires, humans that had been corrupted by demonic magic. And werewolves, humans that had been corrupted as well, but took the forms of predators, of animals. 

Of those inhuman creatures, werewolves seemed to be by far the ones Izzy was the wariest of. She hadn’t really explained it, but she’d talked about them as someone would talk about animals. Warlocks were these old greedy things, Seelies were exotic liars, vampires were blood-sucking nightmare monsters, and werewolves were animals. 

Only Magnus Bane had been different from what Clary had been told he would be, but he had still demanded payment. And after today’s adventures, kidnapping, being threatened with the death of her friend Simon by the fangs of one of these wolves… it seemed that what they said about werewolves wasn’t that far from the truth. 

One of the wolves attacked one of their own. Challenging the alpha, or something. Clary barely understood what was happening, she just knew something was happening and it was dangerous, so she just watched, and heard as there was the sound of flesh tearing. 

And suddenly, the alpha was dead. And the wolf that had helped them turned back into a human. And it was Luke. Nothing made sense, but Clary’s brain just… went into autopilot. “What’s happening?” 

“He’s the alpha of the pack now,” Jace explained. Sure, whatever that meant. 

Luke had defended them. He’d risked his life for them, and now… now he was standing there, bloody and battered and Clary could barely think past “we need to leave”. 

“Clary,” he whispered, panting. “I promised your mother I would always protect you.” 

She didn’t believe him fully, but trust was starting to creep back. She was about to say something when he fell and hit the ground. She ran to him and grabbed him. “Luke. Come on.” She whispered. She wasn’t strong enough to hold him up by herself, and Jace and Simon came to help her. 

They needed to get him to Magnus. Jace was strong and steady, and Clary was too close to tears. Nothing made sense. Her confusion was even worse than it had been ten days ago, when she’d stepped into this world. Now, her brain had a tiny bit of information, but not enough. 

They left, leaving Alec and Izzy behind. Jace didn’t say anything to his siblings. Clary was focused on Luke. Simon was running forward to get Luke’s car. There was tension in the air, but she focused on Luke. 

Izzy looked up at her brother. Jace and he had gotten into a fight. Things had been said that neither were willing to forgive. It hadn’t been Alec’s fault that he’d lost Clary. Jace shouldn’t have said those things to him, no matter how much he cared about her. 

She could feel Alec slipping away a little bit more. They left to the Institute, by foot. It would take a long time for them to come home, but they both needed it. They needed the time to reflect what had just happened. 

Alec was silent, eyes looking down at the pavement. By the time they walked through the doors and faced their mother, he hadn’t said another word, and his face had frozen into an emotionless mask. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 6 - Of Men and Angels
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	6. Of Men and Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> Today's chapter is Of Men and Angels... Everyone's hurting and nothing's okay!
> 
> And of course, men loving men and women loving women!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little warning:
> 
> Alec has a panic attack in this. It starts after "Alec was running."
> 
> There's a lot of anxiety and fear and pain from several of the characters in this. 
> 
> Be careful, okay? Now, onwards.

“You're sure the Seelies think Valentine killed their scouts?” Maryse asked as she walked from the portal door, followed by her daughter. She didn’t understand how Isabelle could act this way. 

Isabelle seemed to have less respect for Shadowhunter traditions the more time passed. First the rune she’d drawn on her breasts, then the clothing she’d started wearing, and then the company she’d started to keep. This Seelie in particular, the one called Meliorn who seemed to be one of the Queen’s most trusted envoys. 

Maryse had tried her hardest to raise her correctly. She’d done her best to push for her children to be the best they could be. She’d made the rules simple and the punishments clear, drawn lines for them not to cross, and her daughter had crossed every single one of those. 

To say she was disappointed was an understatement. She’d hoped Isabelle would at least try to do her part to keep the Lightwood name from getting more dirt on it, but it seemed she wasn’t even trying.

“It's why they've broken off contact with the Clave. They're considering switching sides.”

“That’s totally irrational.” 

Of course, they would. Seelies, like all Downworlders, could only see as far as the end of their nose. It was always about the now and never about the future. Maryse had spent long enough in her life trying to speak logically to these creatures. 

“It’s self-preservation,” Isabelle started. 

“I understand, child. I have dealt with Seelies for much longer than you’ve been sleeping with them,” Maryse replied and turned to her daughter. 

Maryse couldn’t even think about this beautiful child of hers in a bed with a Downworlder. She’d gotten used to Isabelle’s habit of using her charm as a way to get her way. Charm had evolved into sex quickly enough, but Maryse had hoped she would keep herself from falling into bed with these creatures.

“Seelies will always choose people who they think are the winning side.”

“You’ve been trusting them for too long. Never trust a people who can't lie,” Maryse said sternly. “They find much more inventive ways to stab you in the back.” Isabelle was watching her silently, not even daring to look at her in the eyes. Coward girl. “I suppose you find that attractive.” 

Something had gone wrong in the way Isabelle had grown. Sometimes, Maryse did blame herself for it. Maybe she hadn’t been firm enough. Maybe the lines hadn’t been clear enough. Or maybe she’d done everything in her power, and Isabelle had still come out crooked. She left her there in the ops room, walking towards the office. 

Alec was waiting there, with his hands behind his back. A soldier, this one. Not as good as he could have been, but good enough. Maybe the only hope she still had to have done something right in this world. Maryse watched him. 

“You lost the Fairchild girl,” she said, instead of a greeting. 

“I did,” Alec replied. 

He wasn’t pretending, finding excuses. He was facing the truth of what he’d failed to do. Keep her in the Clave’s custody. She watched him. He wasn’t looking at her, he was looking right in front of him. 

“I gave orders. She wasn’t supposed to leave the premises,” Maryse reminded. 

“I know. I fell for her tricks,” her son said, his voice emotionless. “It will not happen again.” 

“It better not.” 

Maryse sat against the edge of the desk. She hadn’t expected Alec to fail. Izzy had her weaknesses. Jace was reckless, and difficult to control, most of the time. But Alec was the only one that respected the rules. And yet, here he was in front of her now. 

“This is the last time something like this can happen. You know what’s on the line. The Institute is only ours because we run it well. The past days, with Valentine’s daughter running havoc, our perfect record has been tarnished.”

“I know,” Alec kept his position. “I will take the punishment you have for me.” 

“For now, there is none. The Clave will make decisions when this whole ordeal is done, and you better pray to the Angel that they let us keep our position. For now, you need to get to finding the girl.”

“I will, mother.” 

“These are orders, Alec. Find her, and keep her in custody. There will be consequences.”

Alec swallowed but nodded. Good.

Maryse sighed. “I expect the best from you, Alec. You know it. We can’t afford to have another failure on our hands, not when it comes to something this big.” 

“Please, don’t worry,” he finally moved, and looked at her. “I will not fail, I will get the girl back and I will keep her here. Even if we have to lock her up in the cells downstairs.” He promised. 

Maryse moved closer to him, reaching to touch her son’s cheek for a second. “I trust you on this. I know you will not disappoint.” She whispered. “You have no idea how important this is. How much we need to keep face, now more than ever.” 

Her beautiful, beautiful son… He was the only thing she really had left now. Isabelle had always been her father’s favorite, she was young and manipulative and pretty. Max was growing closer to Robert than to her. Alec was the only one she had left, of their family. Alec, and Jace, though Jace seemed to be having the same problems as Isabelle. 

Alec would keep them together, would keep the family for falling apart. He understood what it meant to be a Lightwood, he understood duty more than any of her other children combined. He would carry their legacy. 

“Is everything okay?” Worry, in Alec’s voice. 

She did not answer. She didn’t know what to answer to that. She was a Lightwood, she couldn’t just fall apart for no reason. She couldn’t allow herself the luxury of feelings. She wasn’t the first woman in this situation, not in the world they lived in. 

Maryse paid her goodbyes, and left him, told him she was going to go deal with some business in the other office and took her feelings with her. 

Alec barely had time to think about what his mother had said before another person was walking into the room. Izzy with her heels tapping against the wooden floor in such a distinctly recognizable way. 

“Mom’s particularly venomous today.” She said. 

“She’s been acting differently. Something’s wrong.” Alec replied, and looked at his sister. 

He had no idea what really was going on. He could feel that Izzy was angry at their mother, and hurt as well. The sharp way she’d reminded him of what he was supposed to do was still in his mind, but so was the vulnerability in those last moments of seeing her. 

He didn’t really understand what was going on. He knew he wasn’t supposed to demand an explanation, he was supposed to do as he was told and go and grab the girl from the warlock’s lair. 

Alec loved his mother, though. Despite everything Clary could say about how she wasn’t acting like a mom should, he didn’t care because he loved her anyway. She was strong and yes, she was harsh but it was the way things should be. 

Seeing the emotions in her eyes earlier… it wasn’t normal, despite her silence… or maybe because of her silence. He was worried, about her. He knew he shouldn’t be, she was far from being weak, but… she was his mother. 

“I don’t feel it. If anything, she’s worse than usual.” Isabelle muttered. 

Alec didn’t know what to answer to that either. He was bad with feelings. He was bad with dealing with this part of the bond. He loved the rest of it, the power and the knowledge that she was there by his side, but the feelings? 

He had spent most of his life pushing his own emotions away so he didn’t have to deal with them. Dealing with Izzy’s as well could prove hard. Too hard, sometimes. Alec was tired. He loved her, more than anyone in this world, but he was tired. 

He was tired of feelings, they only brought pain. He just wished it could all stop and he could just do his job and not care about anything but that. It would be so simple if he could just obey orders.

He sighed and pulled her close. Izzy snuggled against him. She knew he couldn’t say anything to help her, and hugs and gentle nudges were all he was able to muster right now. Too much had happened lately, and his brain was exhausted. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

“Me too. I love you,” Izzy replied, and he hugged her tighter.

They were interrupted by the surprise visit of their father, Robert, and Max, their brother.

 

\--------------------------

 

Jace and Simon were still in the search for the ingredients they needed to take care of Luke. Clary thought she was going nuts, running around Magnus’ apartment in circles, oscillating between the work table where the potion was slowly brewing, the couch where Luke, currently unconscious, was resting, and the window. 

Her phone showed no new notification, and Magnus was calm. Too calm. She wished he could just be as worried as she was. The warlock had nothing to lose in this, that was true, but… she just wished she didn’t feel as alone in her concern as she felt right now. 

He was drinking, maybe his second drink of the day, busying himself, preparing the guest bedroom by hand when he could do it with magic. Clary felt like he was avoiding her too, avoiding her questions. Luke wanted Magnus to tell her “everything”, and the warlock was still silent. 

Maybe what he had to say would busy Clary’s mind enough that she would stop worrying… maybe it could be the answers to a lot of question the Lightwoods couldn’t answer. She had no idea, but she guessed if Luke was saying she needed to know… it could allow her to understand him and her mom more. And understand how her mom could have been with Valentine. 

Clary sighed and slumped into a chair, on the table next to the potion. Magnus snapped his fingers, and a sketchbook and some charcoals appeared in front of her. She turned towards him, raising an eyebrow in question. 

“When you were younger, I'd watch you sketching,” Magnus explained. “You came here with Jocelyn. I would sometimes babysit you. You’d make drawings, so many of them. And you always leave one behind for me,” he whispered. “It was your bliss. You're gonna need some bliss now.”

Clary looked back at the sketchbook. She didn’t remember Magnus beyond the day he’d taken her memories. She didn’t remember making drawings for him. She watched as he took a sip of his drink, not looking at her. Did he wish she could remember too? Or did he not care?

“I don’t remember it… I don’t remember anything from those days,” she said, almost sheepishly. 

He shrugged. “I know. I took the memories from you. Every time. You would give me a drawing, and I would take your memories.” 

Silence fell in the room. Clary ran her fingers over the slightly off-white paper sheet. 

“Back then, there wasn't a day I didn't draw,” she started. “It was like breathing,”

She hadn’t drawn in days. She hadn’t drawn since her birthday. The sun was rising through the window. Thirteen days. Less than two weeks since she’d stopped drawing.  It felt like an eternity ago.

“Now, I look at this blank page and I barely even know what to do,” she was talking more to herself than to Magnus at this point. The charcoal felt strange against her hand when she took it; as if her body wasn’t used to it anymore. It wasn’t the weight of a seraph blade or one of the staffs of the training room. It was lighter than a stele. “Sometimes I feel like my art, my memories My life, it all vanished with that Memory Demon.”

Magnus’ glass hit the table in a dull thud, and he turned to her, “Your art, everything you are they're all still here.”

“But what if there were never there in the first place? What if it was just… the Shadowhunter in me drawing things instead of runes, because I just needed to put it out there.”

Magnus chuckled. “Though they do all seem like robots sometimes, Shadowhunters are able to have hobbies and personality traits outside of being an angelic soldier.”

Clary fell into silence for a second more. The man moved away and started stirring the potion again.

“When I first heard about your father,” Magnus’ voice resounded in the silence. She looked up at him but he didn’t look back at her. He was deep into memories of things that were still too close for comfort. “around the time he and Jocelyn first got together, long before the Uprising and the Circle, Valentine elevated the Morgenstern name to be synonymous with virtue. He prided himself… on being defenders of the Accords, allies to the Shadow Kinds… or the Downworld as Shadowhunters call us…  your mother was at his side.”

“But by the time my people came to know him, barely two years later his name had become synonymous with devastation. He and his soldiers massacred hundreds. They went through dens, and packs, and lairs, killing innocent Shadow People. I lost many friends during that period. None was safe.”

“How could my mother agree with that?” Clary asked.

Magnus chuckled. “She didn’t realize it, not for long. She was blinded by her love for him, and the words he’d said at the beginning. Oaths of respecting the Law… they meant nothing to him anymore, and your mother didn’t realize. She saw enemies in the Shadow Kinds because he told her they were there.”

He remembered the fear then. Not much his own, because he’d been so broken then that emotions as a whole had been difficult to feel. He remembered his people’s fear. The way werewolves and vampires begged him to take their loved ones to safety. The way children were taken to his lairs for safekeeping. He swallowed. “She could have saved many lives, had she realized what he was before it was too late.” He explained. “One day… one day he started calling us demons, and he started talking about the Accords like they were things that kept him from doing what was right. Valentine Morgenstern, the one who would murder even nephilim in his path, was born.”

“They never found all the bodies,” and the ones they’d found had been mutilated and bloody, in ways that still haunted Magnus’ dreams sometimes. He remembered warlock corpses, piling up on the pyres they built, mark-less and broken. “We'd all stood with the Clave for centuries.”

The pain was back, like a crashing wave that would not stop. Screams of children finding their parents lying dead on the floor. Laments of loved ones realizing their beloved would never find peace with their bodies mutilated this way. Tears soaking through his shirt, as he tried to hug their pain away. The rage in his heart, that was still present.

Jocelyn had come to him to get Clary’s memories erased, and he’d almost refused her. He remembered the way he’d wanted to just let her and the daughter of the monster die. He’d just wanted to let them pay for what Valentine had done to his people. He’d been content in the knowledge Clary’s life would be ruined from the lack of memories. He really had taken solace in that, the torture of an innocent child. That and the payments. Gold and jewels from the Fairchild family treasure. That had bought him enough alcohol to drown the pain.

Magnus did regret that satisfaction that he somewhat still felt when he looked at Clary. He knew it wasn’t right of him. She was innocent. She was a child.  _ Valentine’s flesh.  _

“How could that not matter to him?” Clary muttered, and he came back to reality and looked at her. There was blood on her face, and she looked more like Jocelyn than he’d thought she would. She looked lost too, like a child that was too young for this world. 

Maybe he’d done her a favor by taking the memories, after all. That thought made him almost uncomfortable, the taste of bile rising in his mouth, because of how much he did not want that to be true. He was an old man with too much pain and anger, and it was wrong of him to feel like this, but he still did. 

“He was obsessed with ensuring purity of blood. Convinced that the impurities were a threat to peace.” He muttered, trying to manage his own feelings and not failing as much as he thought he would.  “Madmen rarely make sense. Mostly, they just hate. And he hated the Downworlders, for the gifts that we possess that he could not have. He hated us enough to kill us all.”

“Ever since my mother was kidnapped, and the Shadow World invaded my life, so many Downworlders have helped me, not even thinking about what it might cost them. How could Valentine not see good in any of them?”

Shadow People had always been too gentle to her kind. They’d always let the Shadowhunters lead them, control them. Magnus had both understood it, and not. The older he got, the more he understood why he and others had always been so quick to trust Nephilim. 

The idea that someone cared enough to help protect them was tempting. It gave the illusion that they would take care of them and give them safety. Eventually, Magnus had learned that you could only trust your own kind. Never the Shadowhunters. 

“He was blinded by his hatred… by the… knowledge he thought he had about what having demon blood meant.” 

“Why didn't the Clave stop him?” 

“He was clever, fabricating evidence that they’d broken the law, for some reason… lying.” bodies, mutilated, and the Clave envoys looking at Magnus and telling them it was the dead’s fault for initiating the fight.  _ They started it. They attacked him. They had what they deserved for attacking a Shadowhunter. For attacking someone on Clave business. They were under protection by the Accords, and your son attacked them. He deserved it.  _

“How could the Clave not see?” 

“Shadowhunters believe in the Law as absolute,” Magnus muttered. “Besides, Valentine’s ideology didn’t come from nothing. It came from decades of prejudice, so deeply ingrained in Shadowhunter training that one wouldn’t be able to grow without it. Even you, Clarissa.” 

She seemed offended by his accusation but he waved it off. “What happened back then is happening again. The Clave refuses to believe that Valentine's a threat. Nineteen years ago, their lack of vision allowed the Circle to almost decimate the entire Shadow World.”

“That was the Uprising?” 

“Yes. Valentine wanted to create a new Shadowhunter army. And for that, he needed the Mortal Cup. He knew it would be on display at the signing of the Accords as a show of the Clave's power. He seized the opportunity to accomplish everything he ever wanted.

Destroy the Accords, murder Downworlders, and secure the Cup.”

“How could my mom and Luke be a part of something like this?” 

“Jocelyn loved him. Luke was his parabatai. Parabatai bonds are dangerous things. I know the young Lightwoods share one. They can be used in so many ways. To hurt each other. To know what the other is feeling. To track the other.” Magnus licked his lips. “Jocelyn and Luke betrayed Valentine. And… even if I somewhat dislike giving them the credit for it… They were one of the reasons the Circle was stopped.”

“They protected the Downworld… and the Cup.” Clary whispered.    


Magnus took a deep breath. “Everything Jocelyn did, she did to protect the people she loved the most. And the day she realized she was pregnant with you, you supplanted him as her one true love.”

The portrait of Jocelyn Fairchild-Morgenstern that he was painting was maybe not what Clary wanted to hear. Children didn’t want to hear how the least-bad of their parents was quite bad themselves. She wanted a heroic tale of how her mother had defeated her father and saved the day. The truth was far from a fairy tale. The truth was that Jocelyn had been selfish. 

Selfishness wasn’t a default in itself. It was the reason Magnus was still alive. But it was still not the thing Clary wanted to hear. Magnus didn’t feel like he cared much about that. The truth was better. 

  
\-----------

 

Alec was running. He didn’t know when he’d started running, where it had evolved from him walking to him running away from the Institute, but he was running. It was the morning, and it was still dark outside and he was thankful there were no mundanes to see him run. 

Marriage. 

He didn’t want it. He’d thought he’d managed to make peace with the fact that he wouldn’t get married to someone he would be able to love, but the reality wasn’t that. The reality was that he was terrified. 

He stopped in a back alley for a second, panting. He wasn’t used to being so weak. He wasn’t used to needing to stop. He had nothing left. Izzy would play the diplomat because she was fucking a Seelie, and he would have marriage. He would have a bracelet and two runes, and a woman in his bed. 

He punched the wall. Hard. Pain shot through his arm, and he was almost certain he’d broken something, except he knew he hadn’t because he knew what broken hand bones felt like, he’d broken his before. 

He couldn’t feel anything, really. He was numb to whatever he should be feeling. There was a hole where his heart, where his feelings should have been. There was a hole where his mind should have been too. 

He slumped on the floor of the alley. People would think things, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore. He just couldn’t feel anything. Or maybe he could feel too much. He didn’t know. He was so afraid and alone, and he didn’t feel anything. 

Fear made his body shake, and he couldn’t control it. He couldn’t control anything. His body wasn’t answering to him. It just wasn’t. It wasn’t answering to him, it was just shaking, and his palms were sweaty and he wanted to puke. He wanted to puke so bad. 

He couldn’t move to puke. He couldn’t move to do anything, his body was refusing to move from its curled up shaky position. He stayed like this for hours, slowly going insane as his body refused to move. He was going to die there, in this alley, alone and afraid.

It was fine, he guessed. He would rather have died fighting, but this wasn’t bad. Alec closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. And another. And another. And he didn’t die. 

His body slowly unlocked, and in a few minutes, he was able to stand up. Alec started walking again, to the address of the warlock’s lair. He had nothing to lose anymore. Jace needed him there. The warlock needed him there, for some reason. So he was going to go there, and help, and then he would see. 

One step after the other, he walked to the warlock’s lair. He wasn’t running anymore, and his body was moving, and he wasn’t going to die. Everything was okay for now. It was all going to be okay. 

The building was visibly shaking, and he hurried up. The warlock looked like he was going to pass out any second. Alec had made the right choice by coming here. The warlock looked beautiful, too, in the blue light of his own magic. Alec shouldn’t think that way. But fuck it. He was going to be married to a woman soon enough. The least he could do was let himself think. 

“Take what you need.” He slipped his hand in the warlock’s and felt it. 

It was a bit like it had been when they’d done the pentagram for the memory demon. He could feel the magic in his body, but this time it was leaving him. He’d never realized he had this amount of magic in him. The warlock held onto him for dear life, and he felt the way his magic was pulling at him. He held the man up, closing his eyes as he felt the strength leave his body. Alec didn’t register that Jace and Simon were back with ingredients, neither did Magnus. 

Magnus could feel the angelic power flooding through him. It was powerful. It wasn’t the same kind of power as demonic magic. It was something he was familiar with too, but it wasn’t… it was different. And it was saturating him. 

There was this Shadowhunter holding him, helping him. Magnus didn’t believe it, and he wasn’t in a state to push him back. He’d asked for him as a joke, definitely. And now Alec Lightwood was holding him. And giving him everything without hesitation, as if he trusted him. 

 

\----------------

 

Isabelle had shut down her bond quickly after Alec had left. It had been a smart move, considering that she was now not subjected to her parabatai’s emotional turmoil. She thought Alec would believe something was wrong, but she didn’t really care for now. 

Her mother’s words didn’t seem to want to leave her head. Usually, when she was confronted with her criticism, Izzy fled and took refuge in Meliorn’s bed. He never asked questions about it, and sex made her feel good. It made her stop thinking for a while. 

Right now, she found herself sitting on her bed, in her bedroom with the lights off. She couldn’t go to him, because he - in part - was one of the things her mother wished she wasn’t.

_ You remind me so much of me.  _ Izzy couldn’t imagine a young Maryse, with long hair, and short skirts. She couldn’t imagine her mother as someone like her, not when she was so different. Not when she was so cold when Izzy ran hot, hotter than Alec and Jace. Jace was reckless, but he was always quick to fall back in the ranks. Izzy had never been able to do so.

She guessed today was the day she became more like her mother. It was that or marriage, for both of them. The way Alec had hurt after being told they were making plans… She would do anything for him not to have to go through with it.

If that included breaking up from Meliorn… Then it was worth it, no matter how much it hurt. It wasn’t that she loved him, she didn’t think she could love anyone currently, but… she cared. And she knew that he was often one of the few reasons she stayed safe and sane. 

_ Passion makes you dangerous.  _ If she felt nothing, if she had no one to be passionate about outside of her family, maybe she would finally be worthy, in the eyes of both the Clave and her mother. 

She wrote her breaking-off on a fire message and sent it away. The flames burnt and it hurt her more than she thought it would hurt. She didn’t want to think about what he would feel. 

Izzy didn’t know if her care for the Seelie was reciprocated, or if it had only ever been something of convenience for him. The way he usually held her when they napped after sex told her something that her mind refused to believe. 

She chose a dress that looked like the one her mother was wearing. She pushed her hair back in a low ponytail. The person she saw in the mirror looked more like Maryse than she wanted. Maybe it was what was for the best, even for her, and no matter how much it hurt. 

She swallowed the pain and the tears that were threatening her. She had no reason to want to cry, and yet, she felt like her heart was breaking. She was saying goodbye to herself, more than to Meliorn and clothing. 

It was freedom that she was leaving behind. What was left was duty. 

 

\----------------

 

Hours later and Alexander was still there, the Shadowhunter, cleaning his apartment. Magnus didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know why he was… trusting the man not to sink a seraph blade into his back while he was making cocktails. He was already on to his third.

Clary and Luke were talking in the guest bedroom, and Jace and Simon had left a long time ago. Alexander was still there, picking up pieces of glass Magnus didn’t remember breaking. 

He’d been flirting for the fun on it, not for anything else. He’d thought it was a good pastime. Watching a Shadowhunter squirm because he couldn’t act on who he really was. It was sad too. The way they hurt themselves by refusing to be free. Magnus really didn’t care, usually. 

Except Alec was soft. He was soft and trusting, and though Magnus could see in him some of the hatred he usually saw in the eyes of Nephilim, it wasn’t as pronounced, and it wasn’t as violent. Maybe he was too busy hating himself to hate the Shadow Kinds as much as his people did. 

“You know I have magic for that, right?” Magnus pointed out, as the Shadowhunter seemed to stay focus on the task of cleaning up everything. 

“I think you've exerted yourself enough for one day.”

This almost made it feel like the man actually cared about Magnus’ magic levels. And yes, Magnus was passably exhausted, which made the alcohol more likely to get him to say things that he would regret, especially when it came to pretty Shadowhunter men. 

“Don’t you worry about me, naphil.” Magnus waved his comment and the probably fake concern away and quickly finished making the other a drink as well. There was no reason for only one of them to be drinking. “Drink break?”

The man put away the rag and the pieces of glass and stood up, reaching for the glass. It was vodka-based and strong. Not that Magnus wanted him drunk, of course not, he wasn’t like that. It was just… something he thought would suit this man. 

“Why did you ask for me when Jace and Clary were both here?”

Already to the questions. Well, this one didn’t miss a beat. Magnus watched as the man’s face contorted when he tasted the alcohol. So maybe not vodka, heh? He licked his lips. 

“Why did you come?” He replied. 

“You didn’t answer.”

“There’s no real answer. I just thought you would be more suited to my needs. And you did deliver so…” Magnus shrugged and sipped on his whiskey. He turned away from the man again. He shouldn’t be doing this. This was a Shadowhunter, in his home. A Lightwood, nonetheless. 

“Are warlocks always this cryptic?” 

Magnus enjoyed the hint of an accent that slipped into the man’s tone. Magnus hadn’t spoken the Idris dialect in a long time and hadn’t heard it either. Maybe it was spoken way less now. Maybe people like the Lightwoods didn’t speak it much. It always seemed more of a popular language. 

“I'm not being cryptic. I'm being coy,” Magnus replied. “I wanted to see you. That’s why I asked you out yesterday. And that’s why I asked you to come now.”

“Why?” 

“Why'd you come?” 

Alec paused, looking down at his drink. “I… I just said screw it.” He whispered. “I just said screw it, and left, and I just… came here. Because I didn’t know where else to go.” 

Alec didn’t know more than that. He didn’t know why him wanting to say fuck you to everyone, to his mother, to his father and to this world, had led him to do what Jace had asked him to do. Maybe because he wasn’t supposed to help. Maybe because he knew Clary would be there and he would be able to bring her back to the Institute. 

Maybe because the way the warlock had looked at him when the demon had revealed he wanted Raj wasn’t hostile, wasn’t disgusted, and wasn’t full of a forced acceptance that made Alec deeply uncomfortable. 

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. You know that right?” the warlock asked and Alec sighed. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re a warlock.” 

“Really? I thought I was a Seelie,” the man scoffed. “For almost a century I've closed myself off to feeling anything for anyone. Man or woman. You've unlocked something in me. I worried for your sake, Shadowhunter. And that’s not something a  _ warlock _ like me does.” 

Alec was about to reply something when his phone rang in his pocket. Thank the Angel. He had no idea why he was so… emotional over this. The way the warlock scoffed at him and assured him of something that just wasn’t true. The way the warlock seemed to care, it was so unnerving. 

The worst part was how Alec was relieved that someone cared. How he was relieved that the warlock, that Magnus Bane, cared enough to worry. Izzy and Jace had said nothing about it. Not a word of compassion. Alec knew that it wasn’t in their nature to address those things, but he had needed it. And now he was getting it from the last person he thought would care. 

His mother’s voice was stern as usual. Colder though. He had to force himself to focus on her voice, and not on the warlock that was standing a couple of feet from him. Something about having to write up the report about the recent demonic activity. Usually, Alec liked writing reports, it was simple and black and white, and it was calming. Putting everything that had happened in a day in words, on paper, with codified phrases, was rational and logical. It was comfortable.

This time, he was not looking forward to coming back to the Institute. Not when he didn’t have anything to show for where he was. Izzy wouldn’t care, but his mother might. Speaking of Izzy, her side of the bond had been strangely quiet. She usually didn’t mind letting her emotions flow through it. Her silence was uncommon. 

“Oh, the furrowed brow. Maryse must be recruiting you for something unseemly.” The warlock said when Alec hung up, and turned back towards him. 

“You know my mother?” he asked, curiously. There was always some mystic appeal to dealing with immortals. Especially now that Magnus seemed to know his mother. 

“The Lightwoods and I have a long history,” Magnus shrugged. “We knew each other when I lived in England. It was around the time I first got into possession of the ruby your sister now wears. I believe your family considers it theirs.” He hummed. 

“I… I need to go,” Alec whispered, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay and hear more and have another drink, even if the alcohol made him wince and feel strange. Magnus Bane was strangely comfortable to be around, for such a creature. 

“I understand,” he said. Alec doubted he did. Magnus reached for the glass he’d put down and not finished. “Stay for just one more drink? And then decide. I could make you one you might like.” He offered. 

Alec didn’t know why, but he stayed.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 7 - Major Arcana
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	7. Major Arcana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> Today's chapter is Major Arcana... Clary discovers some stuff about herself that she wasn't aware of. 
> 
> And of course, men loving men and women loving women!
> 
> Enjoy!

The latte tasted weird. Simon pursed his lips and put the cup back down, trying to shake off the bitter taste that seemed to stick to his mouth. It was strange. Java Jones’ lattes never tasted weird. It was the first time anything he’d ever gotten from this place didn’t taste amazing. 

He looked up at the woman in front of him, who was making patterns on the wood of the table with her finger. He’d asked Maureen to grab a drink, on Clary’s request, actually. They needed to reassure her that Clary hadn’t just… died, in between her birthday and today. 

They should have done this sooner, and Simon knew it. Neither of them had seen Maureen since the 23rd, and it was the 6th, today. 

“So what is going on with you?” Maureen asked. 

Simon swallowed. He couldn’t answer what was on his mind. He couldn’t tell her about the weird hallucinations, about the Shadowhunters, about Clary finding a family so easily within a society that screamed authoritarian to Simon. He couldn’t tell her about Jace, Izzy, and Alec, about the vampires, Magnus Bane, and Luke and Jocelyn. 

Maybe that was why Clary had insisted he was the one to see Maureen. Maybe she hadn’t wanted this awkwardness. Simon was worried about Clary, and how easily she seemed to be forgetting her life before her birthday. 

“We’ve been busy. Clary had to go visit some relatives…”

“I thought she didn’t have any,” Maureen raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, she didn’t know she had them. Her mother kinda sprung it out on her. They’re having some insane… wedding thing. Lasts for like a month.”  _ Good save, Lewis.  _

Maureen didn’t really seem to buy it but she didn’t ask more. Simon didn’t want to be here, with the coffee that tasted like absolute shit. And the woman in front of him. Maureen looked amazing. Her neck especially was so graceful. Skin looking so soft in the lighting of the café. 

Simon swallowed. What the fuck. He tried to focus back on the conversation, and succeeded, for a moment. 

Maureen started talking about college, about work, and about opportunities for Rock Solid Panda to play more. Simon should have been able to focus. This was his future she was talking about because Clary’s newfound purpose didn’t include him. He had to stop focusing on Clary. And start focusing on himself. And stop focusing on the way the arteries and veins of Maureen’s neck moved when she moved her head. 

“Do I have a stain or something?” Maureen pointed out, and Simon shook his head.

“No, no, no, you good, you good, I was just… I was just..;” He mumbled and shook his head. “Sorry, I was distracted, I’ve been distracted lately.”

“No kidding,” Maureen rolled her eyes. “Anyway. I have to go. I’ll leave you to your latte. Please tell Clary to call me back.” She asked. 

Simon told he would, but he knew whatever he did, Clary would probably forget to call her. He supposed it was for a good reason. Saving her mom. Stopping her father. Saving the world, when she was barely able to cook herself scrambled eggs. 

He watched Maureen leave. Maureen had always been a good friend. She’d also always been crushing on Clary. Simon wondered how it felt to be left behind by your best friends, shut out of their lives suddenly without warning. 

He wanted to go home now. He’d been getting a nasty headache. He reached for the latte, determined to finish it. It tasted amazing this time, but when he put down the cup again, the coffee residue had morphed into something much more horrifying. Blood. 

The cup shattered on the floor a second later, and Simon ran away as fast as he could.

\----------------------------

Magnus Bane portalled them to a street not far from the precinct, and Luke, Clary, and Jace walked the rest of the way. The two young Shadowhunters had spent the night at the Institute while Luke occupied Magnus’ guest room. 

Clary doubted they really believed that the Cup was inside of a tarot card. Even in a world where magic existed and was part of so many people’s lives, drawings that materialized were a stretch. She couldn’t really explain it though. She’d told them about the biscotti, and the box, but… she could have very well imagined it, the way she’d drawn runes without conscious thought. 

“All right, cards are on my desk,” Luke explained, “It shouldn't take long.”

Jace started to walk towards the entrance of the precinct but was stopped. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. It'll be easier to avoid unnecessary attention if I do this alone.”

The blond man’s face turned sour immediately, and Clary replied for the both of them, assuring Luke that they were staying here. The older man walked away and through the doors of the station. 

“It sounded boring anyway,” Jace grumbled, crossing his arms. There was some sort of a mean look about his eyes.

Clary took a step back and went to sit on the edge of the stairs. She thought for a second that someone might recognize her. She grabbed her stele and activated her glamour. Jace imitated her. 

She looked up at him. “He’s not side-lining you, you know?” 

“He’s trying to protect us. We don’t need protection. This is a mission for the Clave,” Jace replied. 

“The Clave? The Clave doesn’t want us to be out here if I remember well. They want us kept in the Institute, not doing anything useful.” Clary reminded him. 

The man huffed. “Still. It’s for the greater good. It’s… it’s our role as Shadowhunters.” 

“Luke was a Shadowhunter.” 

“But he’s not anymore,” Jace’s tone was colder, and Clary rolled her eyes. 

It reminded her of how he’d acted in the City of Bones. The coldness when he explained to her what was right and what was wrong, what Shadowhunters were and were not. He seemed to be stuck between following rules and commands and orders, and completely disrespecting them as if two visions of the world were colliding constantly in his mind. 

“He can still be trusted.”

“You don’t know that,” Jace spat out and Clary suddenly had had enough. 

“I do actually. What’s the matter, Jace? Is it about him being a werewolf?” She asked, standing up and staring right into his eyes. 

Jace stopped, looking back at her. He didn’t like the way she was talking to him right now, but he knew she was right. Luke Garroway was a werewolf, that had a history of aiding and abetting Clave fugitives. Every single thing Jace knew about him told him he shouldn’t be putting his trust into the werewolf. 

“Downworlders have their own goals in mind. They can’t think past their own lives, and they can’t think about the greater good.” Jace explained. “It’s understandable. They aren’t like us, they aren’t trained in seeing the future in the long-term. We fight for generations ahead of us. We fight for the future of humanity. They fight for themselves.” 

Clary sighed. “And doesn’t Valentine want to kill all Downworlders? It wouldn’t make sense for a Downworlder, for someone like Luke who was so horribly betrayed by Valentine, to work with him.” 

They fell into an awkward silence. Jace sighed and looked away, taking a couple of steps in another direction, crossing his arms. The werewolf was already taking too long. Clary couldn’t understand why he was saying the things he was saying. She had been in this world for maybe two weeks. Two weeks of running around trying to save her mother, and not paying attention to the world around her that much. He’d been in this for 21 years. 

Being told not to get involved and to trust blindly a werewolf alpha made his skin crawl. Jace was a warrior, he didn’t need to be told to wait on the sidelines. He was made for this kind of missions, he had trained for this. 

He hated feeling like this. Feeling like he wasn’t useful in a mission, feeling like he couldn’t do anything. He was itching to barge in there and get those cards and take them to the Institute. He was itching to take them from the werewolf because he knew they weren’t safe in his hands. He would take them back to his pack.

“Do you realize that his pack abducted you and Simon? Threatened to rip you apart with their claws and teeth?” He exclaimed, turning back to her. “How do you know HE doesn’t have the same ideas?” 

Clary stood up in turn. She looked angry. Furious maybe even. Jace didn’t feel threatened, she was far from strong enough to take  _ him _ down. He was the strongest and fiercest of his generation. He’d always been. 

Even Maryse, with her watchful, detail-oriented eyes never found something to say about his stance or his abilities. She looked at him train and saw the ultimate weapon of the Shadowhunter arsenal. 

“I know because he’s my dad, Jace!” Clary punched his arm weakly. “He raised me. And he’s almost Simon’s dad as well.” She explained. “Wouldn’t you trust your dad with something like this?! Wouldn’t you trust your dad not to torture and kill you?!”

Jace huffed. No. No, he wouldn’t trust his dad not to hurt him if it was for the greater good. The greater good trumped all. Family bonds, personal safety. If it was for the greater good or the perceived greater good, his dad would sacrifice everything. 

He didn’t answer Clary’s question at first. She would never understand how this world worked if she kept her mind working in the mundane way. He couldn’t tell her about Michael Wayland, and the way Jace had been brought up. How his entire being was shaped to serve the Shadowhunter purpose.

“Maryse and Robert… I would trust them to do what’s best for all of us. For the Shadow World.” 

Clary fell silent for a moment. “I haven’t met your dad yet,” she said softly, “but I’ve seen your mom.” 

Jace turned to her for a moment. “And?”

“She’s… she’s not like my mom. She’s not warm and understanding, she’s so harsh to all of you, especially Izzy and Alec.”

“She’s harsh because she loves us and wants us to do better. Isn’t it what parents do? Make sure you’re always the best person you can be?” 

Clary licked her lips, pausing. Jace could almost see the way she struggled to see her mother in Maryse’s place. He could understand why. Her mother hadn’t raised her the Shadowhunter way. 

He wondered what it had been like, how Clary’s childhood had been. No combat training, hand-to-hand, all types of short and long blades, hammers, axes, bows, whips… No learning runes, no learning laws, no Accords to learn by heart. No reciting the Shadowhunter creed, no learning about the Downworld. He had spent so many hours in the Academy on the laws. He had been perfect in combat, but the laws and procedures had often escaped him. 

Alec had always been good at everything. Excellent, in all, not perfect, but always in the best of his classes. He studied hours and hours. When he played hunt with Izzy and Jace, he was always masterful and serious, as if it was yet another training session. 

Izzy had focused on Downworlder Studies more than anything. She was excellent in combat, yes, they all were, but her domain was the Downworld. She spent hours in the library of the Academy, hours at night reading accounts of the Downworld and biological treatises on Downworld Abilities before bed. 

What had Clary studied? Mathematics? Jace almost made a face at the idea. He’d hated the math and science classes that Izzy had adored. She’d even taken a few tutoring classes in “fundamental mathematics”, something that boggled his mind. Why would anyone want to do more than what they were taught? It was enough to live a life, no need for further hours spent looking at those stupid numbers. He remembered being 15 and looking at the insane operations on Izzy’s notebooks. Letters amongst numbers, ancient Greek letters as well… Ew. 

“My mom… she did want me to be the best I could be. But she wasn’t acting the way yours does. She supported me. Made sure I knew I had someone on my side, no matter what.” She explained.

Jace stopped pacing and sat down next to her. If they were going to have to wait for longer… 

“In our world… your mom isn’t there when you’re on the field, in front of a pack of rabid wolves, or a cluster of demons. It’s you, and maybe your team. You can only count on yourself, on your own skills and abilities. So… the way our parents push us… it’s so we have our own back.” 

Clary looked down. “It’s… it seems lonely.”

“It’s not. You have siblings. You have fellow classmates, and you have a team. You have a whole Institute. It’s just not your parents’ role to take care of your safety, when you’re out there.”

Clary pursed her lips but said nothing. She didn’t know what to respond to that, and it was obvious. Jace guessed that the difference between her old life and her new life was coming in in a contrast sharper than ever. 

“What is taking him so long?” She eventually mumbled, walking towards the parked police cars, and looking at the entrance of the station, as if staring at it would make Luke come out of it. 

“I know a way we could find out,” Jace shrugged, following her, “Just go in and see for ourselves.”

“Luke told us to stay put, so that's what we're gonna do.” 

Jace rolled his eyes again. Nope. Still not trusting the wolf. 

“That's probably him now,” Clary said, as her phone rang. She reached for her phone. 

Jace looked up at the passerelle between the two wings of the station. Through the glass walls, he saw the werewolf being walked, in an obvious arrest situation, by two other men. 

“I doubt it,” Jace muttered as Clary hung up her phone without another word. “Just so I'm clear, he did mention something about trying to avoid attention, right? From the looks of it, he's doing a terrible job.”

“Circle members?”

Jace focused on the badge one of the men was wearing, clipped to the pocket of his suit jacket. The vision rune was a permanent one, it just required focus. 

“No, mundanes. Internal affairs officers."

“You can tell all that just by looking at them?”

Smart-ass. Damn, she had so much to learn about runes and about Shadowhunter work. “I can tell all that by reading their badges,” he explained in a mocking tone, before pulling up his sleeve. “Vision rune. Enhances sight. It also kinda works as a zoom if you wanna read something from a distance. Better than binoculars.” He shrugged. “Luke had his chance. Let’s go.”

She didn’t complain as he started walking towards the entrance of the station, and followed right behind him. 

\--------------------------

Izzy’s voice was too loud. Alec hated the way she almost chanted ‘so you spent the night at Magnus’’. He didn’t want anyone to know and think about something that could never have happened. The warlock was courteous. He hadn’t taken him to bed. He hadn’t done… anything to him that Alec couldn’t remember consenting to. He’d consented to drinks and a conversation. He’d gotten exactly that. 

For someone as treacherous as Magnus Bane, Alec would have imagined many things behind simple promises. And maybe there had been questions asked that he hadn’t heard, innuendos that he hadn’t picked up on. 

Would he have had sex with Magnus, if he’d heard the questions? Alec wasn’t a virgin to desire, but he was to pretty much everything else. He’d kissed a girl or two in Idris, and all he’d felt was garlic from their shared pasta lunch. Would it have been different with Magnus? 

Maybe it would have been. Maybe he would have let himself feel that for once, feel a man next to him, under him, for one single time before his family duty made him marry a woman. He would have let himself have that one memory, and he’d have used it to carry out his husbandly duties and give his bloodline an heir. 

Now he didn’t have that option anymore. And she kept going with her innuendos. And she was still shutting him out, he could feel it, and he was so tired. Sleeping on someone’s couch when you were as tall as Alec was wasn’t necessarily that comfortable. 

Something was off with Izzy too. She was… she looked like their mom, right now. With the blue dress, and the hair tied, and the professionally quirked eyebrow. She looked different and he didn’t like that he couldn’t feel why. Because all she seemed to want right now, was to talk about him and Magnus Bane as if there was something there. He would never allow himself to have something there. 

“When you're ready to talk about whatever you need to talk about, I'm here.”

No. He wouldn’t talk about it. If he talked about it, then it became real. He knew, deep down, that Izzy knew. He knew that she probably didn’t care but he still didn’t want to say it. It would bring shame to their name if it was spoken. 

“I know. It won’t happen.” He whispered, barely audible. She raised an eyebrow, and he waved her concern away. “Nothing. I talk to you, though. Don’t say I don’t.” 

“About everything but your personal life,” she reminded him. “I know what I know because I feel it; Because we’re parabatai.” 

Alec sighed and buried his hands deeper in his pants’ pockets. He was going to reply to something when she spoke up before him. 

“I broke up with Meliorn,” she said. Her eyes were serious. He suddenly knew why she’d shut him out. Why he hadn’t been able to feel her emotions last night. Maybe that was why she was acting and dressing so weird. 

“Really?” he asked. He knew Meliorn made her feel happy. He’d never really approved of it, but he just wanted his sister to be happy. She deserved it, she deserved to feel warm and comfortable, and she deserved the smile she had when she came back from Meliorn’s, the nights where she didn’t even have an excuse to have been there in the first place. “Turning over a new leaf?”

Izzy smiled a little at Alec’s attempt at humor. Jokes often came out dry from him, almost reprimand-like. She knew he didn’t mean it like that though. “He was a bit much; apparently, I need someone more Shadowhunter-ish.”

Meliorn had made her feel valued. He’d made her feel beautiful, yes, but many men made her feel like that. He’d made her feel like she was powerful like she was smart. He’d never talked down to her, never dismissed her opinion. Izzy had no idea if she would find this in a Shadowhunter man. 

“I realize that you're trying to take some of the family heat, and I appreciate it, but you can't change who you are.”

She scoffed at that. “Really? And you can?” She knew Alec’s pain, and she just wished he would tell her. She just wished he would confide in her, and let her take some of his burdens away. But this was Alec. Dutiful, honorable, to the very end. She was just afraid these duties and honor would lead him into such deep unhappiness that he would throw himself on a blade to make it stop.

“I know who I am, I'm a guy who's about to be disowned when Dad finds out that Jace and Clary are still out doing Raziel knows what.”

Izzy chuckled. “I think Dad's used to that by now. This is Jace you're talking about.”

“He said he'd be an hour. It's been three.”

\---------------------------

“Really? In here?” Jace asked. 

The room was crammed full of boxes and they barely had the place to move, let alone for Clary to comfortably deglamour for the first time. 

“Why not?” She replied. 

“There's got to be a better place.” Jace guessed that it was a room that wasn’t used much, and it allowed them to get in or out without a problem but still. It was full of dust, and every time either of them moved against one of the boxes, another cloud of dust came out of it. 

“No, here's good.” She muttered as she tried to take her stele out of her pocket, elbowing him in the gut in the process. He groaned but she just chuckled as a result. She seemed to have absolutely no remorse for hurting him. 

“Man, you actually enjoy it, I should have known. Everyone likes hurting me.” 

“Awww, poor Jacey,” she mocked and looked up at him. “Wanna hug for all your trouble? Maybe some hot cocoa with marshmallows?”

“Super funny, Clary, now just get on with it,” Jace rolled his eyes, and she smirked. She was going to be the death of him. 

Somehow their discussion from outside seemed to be forgotten or at least relegated until later on. Jace was thankful for that. Now he could just watch as Clary struggled to deglamour herself. So cute. 

“You need help with that?” He asked teasingly and she shook her head.

“I can deglamourize myself, Jace”.

“It's "deglamour." And it looks like you need help to me.” 

It took a few more tries, but she managed to focus her angel power long enough for the stele to function, and the glamour to dissipate. When she looked up at him, she realized how cramped it indeed was. 

He was way too close for comfort. Clary had never been a huge… physical-closeness-with-men person. Luke and Simon were big exceptions to the rule. It kinda seemed like Shadowhunters had less trouble with physical closeness. She guessed it was due to the amount of combat training. They’d had to get used to feeling other people’s bodies against theirs. So Jace didn’t look at all troubled by the way she was in his intimate space. 

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “We need to get to the cards.” 

“Right. How exactly are we gonna get them? I doubt we can make it out of this closet without drawing attention, let alone Luke's desk and you are covered in runes.” 

Clary smirked. She’d thought about that. And she was going to enjoy it, she thought. 

“Don't worry. I've got a plan.” She assured.

Jace raised an eyebrow. “A good plan this time?” 

“90%,” she shrugged. It was actually 100% of a good plan, but he just wouldn’t enjoy a part of it. “Just follow my lead. Oh, and I apologize.”

“Apologize for what?” 

“The other 10%.”

He didn’t have time to ask exactly what was were going to be, as she walked out of the closet room quickly. There was no one in the corridor, fortunately, because he didn’t know how she would explain the two of them being together in a tiny room. Jace guessed it all depends if the people around the station knew she didn’t like men. 

She walked quickly towards where Luke’s desk was, and he followed. The less distance was between them and the room and the more she looked like she was rushing away from him. 

Clary took a deep breath as she walked into the room. Several officers were standing there. Time to put the plan in action. She turned around swiftly and suddenly slapped Jace. The slap resounded in the room. 

“You son of a bitch!” She shouted. “Stop following me!” 

He walked closer to her and grabbed her arm, sending her a questioning look. He looked angry too. 

“What the fuck, let me go, asshole, I’m not into you!” She yelled louder, loud enough to attract the attention of Luke’s superior officer, Captain Vargas. 

She pushed past the two officers as they grabbed Jace and kept her from following. She made a beeline for Luke’s desk and started opening the drawers. Empty. Fuck, fuck, fuck, it was empty. It didn’t make sense, Luke always had paperwork in there. 

“You will never see me at your crappy apartment again!” She added for good measure. 

“That girl means nothing to me. Nothing.” Jace tried to defend himself. 

Captain Vargas crossed her arms, standing still next to Clary. Clary opened the other drawers. Empty. Empty again. Fuck. Why were they empty? What was happening? She could feel her chance to finally get the cup and put an end to all of this slip away. 

“Is that the guy that I heard so much about?” Vargas said. 

“That’s him. Fucking asshole tried to kiss me. Said I was leading him on, or some shit.” She explained. “I fucking told him I was gay,” she added.

It wasn’t the first time something like that could have happened to her. Some guy she’d been friends with in high school, had tried to get her to date him, saying she just didn’t know what being with a man felt like, and she needed to try dicks before she resolved herself to a life of pussy-only. She still wanted to puke when she remembered his sweaty palms on her thighs and his bad breath. Homophobic and transphobic asshole.

“Where is all of Luke's stuff?” She asked, as the last drawer revealed to be empty as well.

“IA took everything. What are you looking for?”

FUCK. Fuck. What was she going to do? House keys. House keys, she needed house keys, right? It fit.

“I, uh…. I lost a house key and Luke normally keeps a spare in his desk, so is there any way I can get it?” 

“Uh, not till he's cleared.” 

Cleared? So Luke was in trouble. Either Valentine had been pulling strings in the NYPD, or maybe there was just a misunderstanding. Either way…. There was no way she was getting the tarot cards now. There was no way she was getting the cup. 

\----------------------------

Okay so. She was probably getting the Cup. A little help from Izzy and Alec, and Jace and her were now slipping into the evidence room of the precinct, using the witchlight and nyx runes to see. There were too many boxes with too many things inside of them. They were never going to find the cards. 

And even if they did… Clary only knew how to get the cup theoretically. It was… she didn’t know how she could explain it. What was it, a pocket dimension or something? The only thing she’d been able to do was to turn the biscotti into a drawing. She didn’t know if she could take anything out. 

“In here.” She called, the second she saw “04/06/16 - Garroway - IA” on a box. That had to be it. She threw Jace the witchlight and took the box off of its shelf, purring it down on a nearby table. 

It was full of the stuff that had been in her apartment. Full of memories, and full of objects that screamed of home. Screamed of her old life, a life she didn’t have anymore. A picture, of Luke, Jocelyn and her, smiling at the camera. It had been taken so little time ago, and yet… it felt like it had been a lifetime since she’d last seen that version of herself and her mother. 

She put it down and reached for the next one. Another picture, her mother and her, she must have been eleven or so there. Fuck, she missed her mom. She missed that wide smile and those warm hugs. She missed the way she said that intellect was better than brute force. How was her mother a Shadowhunter? 

“This will take all day,” Jace complained, and Clary put the picture down as well. It wasn’t the time to reminisce. They didn’t have long before they had to leave. Someone would eventually found out what had happened to the generator and turn it back on. Or maybe there was a backup somewhere. 

She took a deep breath, and turned over the box, spilling its content onto the table. 

“Or you could just do that.”

She rummaged through the content until she found the cards. They were big and ornate, and as she went through them Clary wondered whether or not this was a good idea. Maybe she’d imagined all of this, maybe this wasn’t real. 

“That looks exactly like the Mortal Cup.” Jace whispered, astonished, as she stopped in front of the Ace of Cups. 

“This is it. It has to be.” She didn’t know what she would do, if it wasn’t. 

She took a deep breath, and leaned her hand towards the card, expecting… something. Something, she didn’t know what it was but…. It was supposed to happen, right? The tips of her fingers hit the paper and her hopeful smile faded. She hit it slightly, little taps that… she hoped would lead to it opening? Maybe? What was even supposed to happen?

“What's wrong?” 

“I'm not sure.” She whispered. Fuck, she wished so hard for this to work. She needed this to work. What else could she do, if it didn’t? 

“You're not sure what's wrong or you're not sure where your mom hid the Cup?” 

She didn’t have an answer. All she had was a card. 

\-----------

Izzy trusted Alec would be fine. He was an amazing warrior, he really was. But as she and Jace led Clary through the warehouse they’d taken hiding in… she wasn’t sure he would be fine. Alec had been fragile lately. The things she felt on the other side of their bond, the doubt, the fear, the nervousness, they weren’t something she felt often from him. 

He usually was a steady stream of… honor. She didn’t know how else to describe it. He took punishment without trembling, he took everything in stride as if he was expecting it. Sometimes, she even felt relief from him. As if he was expecting much worse. 

Leaving him alone when he was so emotional bothered her. They had to protect Clary and the Cup, yes, but it was Alec. It was wonderful, dutiful Alec, the one who always had their back, and the way Jace walked onward, despite leaving him behind was… strange. Jace hadn’t been un-emotional about Alec staying to cover them but…. Izzy wished they’d been able to tell him to come with them. 

She was so close to leaving Clary in Jace’s capable hands, to run back to her parabatai. She was so close she could see herself doing it, see herself yelling at them she was leaving, throwing Clary her spare seraph blade and running to him. Running to him to stand by his side, the way they were supposed to do. 

She felt him cut the link and she almost ran. She was afraid of how alone he could feel. She was afraid of how the perspective of his future could make him want to do something stupid while fighting too many demons. Izzy gulped. Clary and Jace were having a bonding moment, and it was cute, to see them form a bond, but she just wished they would focus. This was not the time. 

Her necklace started to pulse and she shouted for them to move. They regrouped, and Jace shared a look with her. “Let’s spread out.” 

They did so, Clary brandishing her witchlight as if it would actually defend her. Why didn’t she have a blade? Maybe she didn’t really know how to fight yet, but a child with a weapon was more dangerous than a child with a flashlight. 

“Izzy, where is it?”

The necklace around her neck was pulsing much faster now, so fast that the moments it turned off were almost not discernable. She kept her blade high and looked around her. They were there and she knew it. 

“I don't know. It's like they're right here, but I don't see them.”

Suddenly, there were some clattering on the metal above them, and a demon threw itself down on Jace. Izzy was barely worried. It was small, a Shax demon, but Clary looked like she’d seen a nightmare, she was taking steps back with a deeply terrified look on her face. 

Jace grabbed the demon by the neck and threw it back, his blade catching it and killing it in a second. There wasn’t much to be worried about right now. 

“You good?” Izzy asked. Jace replied with a thumbs-up.

Clary looked spooked still, and Izzy walked closer, gently touching her shoulder. “Hey, we’re good. Everything’s okay.” She said soothingly, and Clary leaned against her touch.

“What was that thing?” She whispered.

“Shax demon. They're like the bloodhounds of the Shadow World. They've been tracking us. The Institute's only a couple of blocks from here.”

“We can't lose them, but they won't be able to track us if we split up.” Jace offered, and Clary’s face fell. 

“I don’t… I can’t…” 

Izzy could see the fear in the woman’s eyes, she could see that she saw herself dying there, eaten by the demons, poisoned again like she had been when Jace had first rescued her. 

“Clary, you'll be fine,” she promised. She took the woman’s arms and made her look at her right now. “Look at me.” Clary looked up, and they made eye contact. “I promise you. You’re going to be okay.” She whispered. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” 

Clary looked so frightened, and Izzy wished she was a warlock. If she was, she could just portal her home, right into her bed, make her tea and wrap her in a blanket. She would be okay, she would be warm, and there wouldn’t be this fear on her beautiful face. 

“Trust me,” Izzy added, cupping Clary’s cheek. “Just keep running. No matter what you hear, no matter what you see. Keep running, you’ll be safe.” 

“What… what about you?” 

Izzy felt her heart skip a bit at the worry she now saw in Clary. As if her fear had been overwhelmed with worry for her safety. She smiled softly. “I’ll be okay. Jace and I… we’ll draw them away. We’re professionals, I swear we’ll be fine.” 

She watched as the young woman started running. 

Clary didn’t know what she was doing. She was running, as fast as she could. She wasn’t looking back, just running down more and more corridors. Everything looked the same and she didn’t even know if she was in the right direction. 

All she heard were the screams of the demons behind her, the noise they made running after her. She heard them die, she heard Jace and Izzy fighting them. She didn’t want them to die for her. Even Alec, whom she didn’t particularly like, she didn’t want him to die for her. No one deserved that, she wasn’t worthy of that kind of sacrifice. 

The Cup wasn’t worthy of their lives either, no matter what Jace seemed to think. 

Her run was cut off suddenly by a wall. A cul-de-sac. There was no way out. She stopped and looked back, and she was about to start running back when a demon appeared at the end of the corridor. No way out. She was going to die there, for nothing. 

If only she could get the Cup out. It was supposed to control demons, right? If she could get the Cup out of the card…. Maybe she would survive this. If it wasn’t just all a big myth, then she would survive it. 

She managed to take the card out of her bag, but the demon was getting closer and closer, and she still didn’t know what to do with the card. How stupid was she, to think that she could just reach into it and take it out. 

She put the card in front of her. If it didn’t work, she was just going to die with the beautiful artwork in front of her, and it would be better than nothing. She focused on it. 

And then she felt it. She felt something, reaching through her body. She felt a hand, grabbing her wrist, a hand, molding itself to her own hand, and suddenly, her hand was moving, her fingers were reaching, and the card had transformed into a portal. It had the same purple swirl as the one Dot had made, on her birthday.

Her arm, guided by the phantom hand, disappeared into the card, and her fingers closed suddenly around something. It was heavy and metallic, and like a handle for something. She pulled her hand back, or maybe the other hand was pulling it back, she had no idea at this point. 

Was it her, or was it this… thing that was taking control of her? 

The Cup was even heavier once it was out of the dimension. She felt it resonate the way the seraph blade had resonated. She felt her blood sing, and she felt the hand retreat from her body. It was just her now, and she looked at the demon and knew what to do. 

“Get back!” She screamed, and it obeyed. 

The Cup glowed with the same glow as the blade. She could feel the power. It inhabited her, made her skin tingle from head to toe. She felt it curl up inside of her, become part of her. It was overwhelming, and she closed her eyes. She felt it build, bigger, and bigger inside of her. 

It took her a few seconds to get herself together. The energy was too much for a young Shadowhunter to handle so easily. It felt… it was hot, inside of her. Hot and incredibly intense. She felt that, if she stayed too long like this, maybe it could consume her. 

But all she had to do now, was get back to the others. So she did. She put the Cup back in her bag, and ran.

“Jace? Izzy?” She shouted as she ran back to where she’d last seen them. There was no blood on the floor that could indicate anything happened that wasn’t supposed to happen. 

“Clary!” She heard and turned towards the source of the sound. “Clary!” The voice - Izzy’s - repeated, and she heard the woman’s heels on the floor before she saw her. 

She ran to her the second she appeared. Izzy’s ponytail had been undone. There was a hint of blood on her forehead. She looked so fucking sexy, Clary didn’t know what to feel. Worry? Lust? Who knew, certainly not her. She was still full of energy from her encounter with the demon. Fuck, they were in a deadly situation, and she was aroused by Izzy’s current hairdo, who was she? 

“You’re hurt,” she whispered and reached to gently touch the wound on Izzy’s forehead. 

“I’ll be alright, you okay?” 

“Yeah, I'm I'm fine. Barely, but…” 

“What happened?” There was worry in Izzy’s voice but it sounded fake. 

“One of the Shax demons cornered me. But I got the Cup. I don't know, my instincts just kicked in and I could do it.” 

Izzy smiled so wide. Clary frowned slightly. There was something that rang untrue about that smile. There was something a bit cold about her eyes. “Clary, you're amazing. I always knew you could do it. Now give me the Cup and let's go.”

“Give you the Cup?” Izzy had never expressed the desire to take the Cup in her own hands. 

“Yes. Only until we get back to the Institute. It's the only way I can keep you safe. I'll die before I let anything happen to you.”

It was logical, but there was no way it was really Izzy. Clary knew it now. She knew it wasn’t really the gorgeous and talented woman she was starting to develop a crush on. This Izzy maybe looked a lot like her, but her demanding tone sounded wrong. 

“Yeah, you're totally right.” Clary muttered and reached into her bag. Instead of the Cup, she pulled out the spare blade she’d been given earlier, and plunged it deep into Izzy’s torso. 

\---------------------

  
The real Izzy was back at the Institute with Jace already, going half insane. Jace was giving orders left and right, preparing battalions of Shadowhunters to go to Clary’s rescue. 

Izzy was worried for Clary of course, but she was worried because of something much worse. Alec wasn’t there. He’d cut the connection earlier and she couldn’t feel anything, and even if she knew he wasn’t dead…. Maybe he was dying, somewhere, grown insane and delirious because of the poison. Maybe… maybe he’d let himself be bitten. Maybe he was slowly bleeding out because he’d been impaled by a piece of metal while fighting the demons. 

There were so many ways Alec could be injured, so many ways she could lose him right now. Why had he cut the connection off? She walked back to his bedroom yet another time, but the door was still locked, and the room was still empty. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. 

She walked back towards the ops center. Maybe if she focused on the search, she would forget her anxiety, and maybe he would be found at the same time as Clary. She walked towards the glass passerelle and saw him. 

He was leaning against it, and Izzy almost cried in relief. She rushed to him, grabbing him and hugging him so tight. He didn’t say anything, just hugged her back. She felt the relief floating through her, as he re-opened the connection. 

She usually wasn’t this emotional about leaving him behind. She’d just been so worried since she’d told him about the marriage he was probably going to be forced into. But he was alright. He was there. Safe and sound. 

In the ops room, Jace was hugging Clary just as tight. Once Alec let go of her and made her understand he’d gotten to his quota of affection for the day, she let go of him as well, and walked down to where Jace and Clary were celebrating.

Clary had gotten the Cup. She’d gotten out of there, and killed a demon, that looked like Izzy. That was a big adventure for someone like her. When she was done telling it all, in a tone that denoted more excitement than anything, to Jace, Izzy coughed slightly. 

“Izzy,” Clary breathed out, and fell into her arms as well. 

Izzy hugged her back, inhaling the smell of her perfume. “I told you that you would make it.” She whispered against her skin, and Clary chuckled softly. Izzy pulled back a little, just enough to see her face. 

“I was worried,” she said softly. “You took so long.” 

“I know… I… the demon.”

Izzy smiled softly. “I heard all about your exploits, Clary Fray.” She teased tenderly. 

Almost suddenly, Clary slumped on herself a little, exhaustion gaining her. Izzy smiled softly, and took her hand, guiding her towards her bedroom. There, they could talk more, and she could rest. She certainly deserved it. 

As they walked past Alec, the man sent Izzy a look. She knew what he wanted to say.  _ Already found a new person to care for. Forgetting Meliorn was fast.  _ And maybe he was right. Or maybe not. She did care for Clary, there was no doubt about it. 

It was too soon. They barely knew each other, they barely had had time to spend quality time together. And she’d taken Meliorn’s picture off of her bedside table only yesterday morning. 

The sun had risen on April 7th, and Clary had now been a Shadowhunter for two weeks. It felt strange. It felt strange how long those weeks had seemed. It felt strange that her heart was fluttering for Izzy now when it had for Maureen so recently. 

Maureen… Simon. Clary had to call Simon. She probably had five or six messages from him. And she had stopped answering his calls. He was supposed to have seen Maureen for her yesterday, right? 

Her bed was so comfortable… and Izzy was currently pulling out some pjs for her. Clary quickly changed into them, and when she was done, Izzy was in sleepwear as well. They laid in bed, looking at the ceiling. Izzy was tracing patterns on her arm. 

Clary’s phone was God knew where. She would call Simon tomorrow. She just could fall asleep, right now, with this gorgeous woman by her side.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 8 - Bad Blood 
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	8. Bad Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> Today's chapter is Bad Blood... Simon makes a come back, and Alec takes a decision. 
> 
> Are Magnus and Alec growing closer? 
> 
> This chapter is the last of the "one episode per chapter" thing, at least for Discovery/Season 1
> 
> Enjoy!

Alec sat on his bed, staring at the screen of his phone. The name ‘Magnus Bane’ glared back at him. He hadn’t turned on the lights. He swallowed, putting the phone down on the mattress. He kicked off his boots and laid down.

He didn’t even know what to tell him if he called. The memory of the night he’d spent in Magnus’ loft was a bit blurry. The cocktails had been strong, and the man, enchanting, in a way that made Alec both… fascinated, and terrified. He didn’t want to think about the way his name sounded on this man’s lips.

He was unlike anything Alec had expected. He’d met warlocks before, but only in official settings, not like that. Everything was yelling at him to no trust him, and yet… he shot a look at his phone. The screen was still on, and he could kinda see the letters of the warlock’s name and the ‘call’ button under it.

Alec sighed. He had been so sure it was his last time thinking about the man when he’d come home yesterday. Or maybe it was two days. He didn’t actually know that much. The last few days had been such a haze. Only clear in his mind were two dark brown eyes framed in gold eyeliner. Alec had always found eyeliner a bit ridiculous until he’d seen it on Magnus Bane.

_The alcohol tasted bitter on his tongue, and he could still feel its sharpness burning down his throat. The man didn’t seem to be affected by those feelings. He was swaying a little to the rhythm of the music that played in the loft._

_They were alone, this time, no werewolf in the guest bedroom. Alec licked his lips and stood up. He wasn’t as graceful as the other man was. He wasn’t as used to this. His body wasn’t used to dancing, it was used to killing._

_His motions were out of synch with the beat, he was out of synch with this, but his blood was burning with the same fire as the alcohol down his throat. It was exhilarating._

_Magnus turned to watch him. He laughed, but said nothing, looking at Alec like Alec belonged there, like Alec belonged dancing awkwardly in the middle of his living room. As if this was normal and happened every day._

_There was something encouraging even, in the man’s eyes. Alec didn’t know what he had done to deserve this. Magnus should hate him, but he didn’t. He was watching dance with a small smile on lips Alec wanted to kiss._

_Magnus took his hand and pulled him closer, and Alec finally fell into the rhythm, and into the man’s arms. He guided him through the song, smoothly, gently, eyes still locked on his. Alec could feel the warmth of his hand through his shirt. He felt blurry. And awake, at the same time._

_He didn’t remember taking the decision, but suddenly he was leaning in, and kissing the man._

Alec opened his eyes, startled by nothing, when Magnus’ back was hitting the pillar in the middle of the living room. He sat back up, and looked around himself. He was home, at the Institute, on his bed. Still wearing his day clothes.

He stood up on uncharacteristically shaky legs, and went to put on some sweatpants as pjs. He grabbed his phone again, and didn’t really check the time. He barely hesitated as he hit the call button.

“Hmm, what is it?” The warlock’s voice resounded in Alec’s ear and he swallowed. He hadn’t really thought about what to say.

“Hi.”

“It’s 3 am.”

Alec sighed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have called.” He muttered, and was about to end the call when he heard a small “is everything okay?” There was a yawn in the man’s voice, and it made Alec… smile?

“I… yeah. I felt like calling, that’s all.”

“Thinking about me?”

Alec fell silent for a while. He felt like a child. He didn’t know how people did this. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. So he just… denied it all.

“I wanted to thank you, I guess. For allowing me to stay the other night. For doing everything you’ve done to help us.”

“I haven’t done much. Besides, I am very interested, believe me. Catching a maniac who wants to commit genocide on my entire people is something I am, unsurprisingly, interested in.”

“Right,” Alec replied. Of course. How stupid. “That makes sense.”

There was a soft chuckle from the other end of the call. Alec shifted, laying back down on his bed, and looking at the ceiling. He smiled a little.

“When we summoned the demon, and I… you know,” he licked his lips. “How do you know it’s okay?” He asked. “How do you know there’s nothing to be ashamed of?”

Maybe it was too late for these kinds of questions, but it didn’t mean Alec didn’t wonder. He wondered why Magnus could be so sure in saying that it was nothing to be ashamed of. He wondered if the man had ever felt the way Alec felt now, asphyxiated by everything around him, going through life half dead already. If he had tried to push away this part of him.

“I’m bisexual,” Magnus replied, and it wasn’t what Alec had been expecting.

“Bisexual?” Alec replied. The word was familiar, it didn’t come out of nowhere, but Alec didn’t know if he knew what it actually meant.

“It means I have the ability to love more than one gender.” He explained. “Whatever you feel, I’m guessing we might not have the same experience, but it’s alright.”

“So how can you know?”

“I can’t know for sure, but I believe that… you are born the way you are supposed to be. Your soul knows what it’s supposed to be, Alexander.”

“You think it’s the will of the Angel?”

“Would it be so bad, if it was?”

If it was the will of the Angel, then his parents, everyone in the Clave was wrong when they talked about ‘homosexuals’. They were wrong, and they were hurting others. Maybe… maybe they just didn’t know, or maybe the warlock on the other end of the phone knew absolutely nothing about the Angel’s will. He was a Downworlder, after all. A demon spawn.

A demon spawn who had helped them, who had never asked for payment after their first meeting. A demon spawn who spoke to him with earnest, who looked at him like he was more than another soldier. A demon spawn who had let him stay at his… who had trusted him.

The Clave had been wrong about Magnus. What else were they wrong about?

_Nothing. The Clave wasn’t wrong, that couldn’t be._

“I have to go.”

“You’re right. We should both sleep. It’s late, after all.” Magnus’ voice was soft and Alec hated the way it sounded.

He barely said goodbye, hitting the ‘end call’ button. He should sleep. There were things to do tomorrow. They had to deal with the Mortal Cup, and with the Clave, and with more demons, and maybe deal with Clary’s training.

 

\-----------------------

 

"We need to decide what to do with the Cup."

Alec turned around, raising an eyebrow, looking at Jace who had just come out of the living quarters. He’d been looking over Clary’s training by the hands of Hodge, for the last two hours.

"Strange to see you in a responsible mood, are you sick?"

Jace laughed at Alec’s wry tone, knowing from the twinkle in his eye that he didn’t mean harm. They’d known each other for years, and Jace had grown used to his brother’s specific brand of humor. He settled next to him, leaning against the desk.

"She’s getting better," he muttered, watching the way Clary parried and attacked Hodge.

"She’s getting less worse."

Alec still disliked Clary, and it was obvious. Jace was a little conflicted about her. He did enjoy her tenacity, and admire the bravery she showcased, dealing with all kinds of monsters but… she didn’t understand the way Shadowhunters functioned and it was obvious.

Only a couple days ago, she’d opposed him, accused him, explained how he was wrong in a way that unnerved him. He wasn’t wrong, he had the law by his side. In a way, he was annoyed with Clary for the same reasons Alec disliked her.

Jace knew what not following the rules brought. It brought punishment. Clary didn’t understand that, for every single act of rebellion, there was a consequence. Jace usually didn’t care about consequences himself, but the latest week had brought on his family the consequences of all of his actions.

He’d seen the change in Izzy, the way she dressed now. He knew she’d broken up with Meliorn. He’d never really understood what they saw in each other, what she saw in him, but he knew it must have hurt her.

He’d heard about Maryse and Robert’s plans to marry Alec to the first Shadowhunter woman whose family legacy would help secure the Lightwood’s footing. It crumbled more and more each day, and it seemed like Consul Dieudonné called on their expertise less and less. Being forgotten by the Council was the worst that could happen for Clave members such as them.

Jace wondered why nothing had been asked of him. Maryse had always treated him as family, especially since she knew how talented he was. Robert had been colder, but he wouldn’t put it past either of them to see him as another way for the family to get back in the Consul's good graces.

Maybe they didn’t think of him as a true Lightwood. He wasn’t theirs by blood, but he knew where he belonged. It was with them. He knew it was, he knew he was supposed to belong on the family picture.

Alec seemed tired. It was written all over his face, worry and lack of sleep, and so much stress. It had been getting worse since Clary had arrived. Jace and Izzy worried. They didn’t say anything, but they both knew he spent too many hours of the night punching bags in the training room.

He spent longer there since Maryse and Robert had arrived and taken the Institute back from his care. Alec had been doing great, before them, with only the unsanctioned missions to tarnish his record. He turned in all the paperwork. He was a good soldier.

It was all Jace’s fault if Alec was like this. If he hadn’t gotten him to do all these missions,  if he had been responsible, maybe Alec wouldn’t be married to someone by the end of the year. Maybe even by the end of the month. Someone Jace doubted he would ever truly love.

Hodge made his way towards them, wiping his hands on a towel. Behind him, Clary was starting on a more solo part of the training.

"So, how’s she coming up?" Jace asked, and the older man smiled.

"Heh, gimme a couple of months and I’ll make her something you guys can work with."

Alec huffed. "Thanks, man. You’re doing most of the dirty work for us."

"Well, it’s the only thing I’m really allowed to do, around here, so at least it’s a bit newer and more exciting."

Alec and Jace exchanged a look at the hint of bitterness behind the training master’s words. They knew the story, they knew why he was in the Institute. It was obvious, the glaring red rune on his neck. It didn’t heal the way other runes did, looking like black-inked tattoos. It seemed to still be raw and painful.

Jace shot a look at Clary, in the middle of a series of push-ups. It had been two weeks already, and though they already could see some progress, she was far from strong enough. Her body was obviously made for combat though, she picked up skills faster than mundanes could have. Perks of angel blood.

He let Alec and Hodge chat and walked up to her, looking at her form.

“Keep your head on a neutral placement. Your spine should be aligned,” Jace pointed out.

He heard her huff.

“It’s hard,” Clary mumbled, sitting up, her reps finished.

Jace shrugged. “You’ll get used to it. You just need to -”

“Yeah, yeah,” she interrupted. “I need to get in shape so I’m not a total liability for you when we go out doing...whatever it is you do when we’re not chasing a genocidal maniac, and trying to get my mother back.”

Jace chuckled, looking at her. “So you’re planning to stay? After we’re done with getting your mom?”

Clary sighed, looking at her hands. She started biting her bottom lip, eyes lost in thought. She seemed so young and frail, only a couple of runes on her body, a couple of bruises forming from Shadowhunter-style intense training. Her hair was also too long to be very practical.

Jace had assisted Izzy several times in cutting her hair so it would be the perfect length, long enough for her aesthetical liking, and short enough for it to not get into the way too much when she fought. It was much easier for him and Alec, but they still enjoyed it. Haircut day was a Lightwood sibling tradition. Maybe they could add Clary to the next one.

Clary was opening her mouth to reply to Jace’s question when the Institute’s intrusion alarm started blaring. Jace was quick to his feet, grabbing Clary’s hand to pull her up. “Seraph blade,” he told her, before rushing down the stairs.

Alec was grabbing his bow, and looking at the screen. “Ich hab's dir ja gleich gesagt.”  _I told you it would happen._

Jace rolled his eyes. “Halt die Klappe.” _Shut up._ Yes, Alec had told them someone would eventually come for the Cup. Maybe his idea to give it to the Clave had been the good one. Or maybe they would have attacked them anyway.

Armed, they joined Clary and Izzy and walked out of the Institute, ready to sort this out. It was night, and the grounds around the Institute were shrouded in darkness and some weird kind of smoke. Maybe it was a result of the wards. Clary didn’t really stop to think much about it.

There was a man, and he was carrying something. He didn’t drop it after he was ordered to. The closer he got, and the more the thing he was carrying looked like a body. A body Clary knew too well.

“Oh my god, Simon!”

Raphael laid the fledgling down on the table of the morgue. He didn’t entirely pay attention to what the Shadowhunters were saying. He wasn’t very interested. He shouldn’t be in here and he knew it, but he guessed the young man still deserved some kind of funeral.

His eyes stopped on a cross adorned with a state of Jesus, laying on its side against the wall. Either the Institute had once been a church, or this was supposed to be found by mundanes who wandered into the warded building.

“I might be a vampire but I was raised a good Catholic,” he mumbled, turning and crossing himself in front of the fallen man.

“The vampires breached the Accords. Killing Simon is grounds for war,” the young woman said. There was a fire in her eyes that Raphael always associated with Shadowhunters: self-righteousness.

"The vampires were not behind this. Just Camille. She attacked Simon on her own. You cannot pin on an entire species the crimes of one,” Raphael replied, trying to calm down these young war-hungry Shadowhunters.

“And how do we know you're telling the truth?” the blond man hissed.

“I could have gotten rid of him, but instead I brought him here. I don't want trouble with the Shadowhunters.”

“Smart decision,” the woman’s voice and the man’s eyes were aggressive, and Raphael internally rolled his eyes. Vampires had enough troubles with Shadowhunters without trying to provoke conflict. Shadowhunters were quick to strike down on both vampires and werewolves, always claiming illegal activities going on being the closed ranks of clans and packs.

“I warned the mundane to stay away but Camille had given him a taste of her own blood, as predicted, he came back searching for more.”

“The only reason Simon ever tasted Camille's blood is because of you,” the red-haired girl - Clary Fray, Valentine’s daughter, the mundane’s friend - exclaimed, her voice raising high, shaky with tears, and full of a misdirected anger. “ You kidnapped him! You drug him to Hotel DuMort. You delivered him to Camille!”

Raphael closed his fists. This girl couldn’t understand. She was a Shadowhunter, she didn’t get that the owner of the Cup decided of the life or death of Raphael’s people, of every member of the Shadow Kinds.

He would have never delivered the mundane to certain death. He had guessed Camille wouldn’t be exactly gentle, but… he didn’t think the mundane would come back. He didn’t think she would kill him, breaking the Accords, and forcing him into either death or eternal life as a vampire.

“I never meant for this to happen.”

Clary stared at him for a second, and he saw the anger, and he saw the pain, and how she didn’t believe that he hadn’t wanted for her best friend to die. It didn’t exactly surprise Raphael.

She put her attention back on the lifeless body in front of her, and started begging for him to come back. That was not possible, not exactly. Simon could maybe come back as a vampire but… life wasn’t exactly amazing as a vampire. Slave to the sun, targeted by generations after generations of overzealous Shadowhunters, blood-drinking… forced to live a life of darkness. Forced to see your loved ones die.

No one should wish for that.

“There is a way,” he still said despite himself.

“‘A way’ what?”

“A way to bring Simon back. He's a fledgling. It's a state of transition. Your friend can be resurrected.” But to what life?

“No.” The dark-haired shadowhunter woman exclaimed, taking a step towards Clary, trying maybe to protect her, against the horrible idea of her best friend becoming a vampire.

“Clary, no,” the blond added.

“So I could have Simon back? Alive and breathing?”

“That's just it. He won't return alive or breathing. He'll be a vampire,” the dark-haired woman whispered, visibly horrified.

“It is your choice,” Raphael explained, “Life as a vampire could be better than death,” he shrugged. He didn’t think so. “You deserved to know all your options. It's almost sunrise now. Simon must be turned into a vampire tonight or staked through the heart.”

“And if I do neither?”

“His soul will be trapped for eternity. You have till sunset to decide. The clock is ticking.”

 

\------------------

 

 _Clave envoy._ No matter how hard they had tried, no matter how Izzy had sacrificed herself and her life for the Clave, they were still under clave surveillance. They were still criminals to the eyes of those they’d always been loyal to.

Alec ground his teeth as he walked out of the Head of Institute office, Izzy staying with their parents behind him. The way his mother had spoken about Jace earlier had left a bad taste in Alec’s mouth. She never talked about Jace this way. That tone was usually made for either Izzy or Alec.

Maryse had never been gentle with any of them, but she’d been protective of Jace’s abilities. Maybe with Izzy schooling herself, Jace had become the one that put the biggest dent in the family standing.

In any case, he needed to talk to Max. And it seemed that Max needed to talk to him too, he thought, as the ten-year-old walked up to him with an air of determination on his face.

“Alec, you think you could get my stele back?”

Of course. Alec should have been expecting that.

“They took it away because you nearly burnt down the Mumbai Institute,” he reminded his little brother, as they both walked towards the ops center. Alec needed to get ready. The clave envoy would be here probably sooner than they expected.

The Clave never left the Institutes they put under scrutiny have time to get rid of the evidence of things they were incriminated for. If his parents had just gotten the notice, the envoy could already be on their way.

“Look, Max,” Alec crouched, to be able to look at Max in the eyes. “Somebody very important is coming to visit,” somebody that could make or break them. Somebody that had their family’s future in their hands. “You think you can stay out of trouble for just a couple days? If you do, I promise I'll get your stele back.”

Max didn’t have time to reply. The doors leading to the Idris portal slid open, and a man walked through them.

There was the circle rune on his neck. That could not be the Clave envoy. Alec grabbed his bow immediately and sent an arrow flying to the intruder. The man caught it in mid-flight. The rest of the Institute had frozen behind him.

This man was Valentine Morgenstern. Alec recognized him from the pictures that had been circulating on the files recently. What was he even doing in the Institute?

The man brought a stele to his arm, and Alec grabbed another arrow, getting ready to shoot again. The glamor dissipated, and instead of the Clave’s most wanted was now standing a woman.

“That reaction time was abysmal,” she almost rolled her eyes as she walked towards Alec. “Except for you.”

Somehow, Alec almost smiled at the compliment. She seemed a couple of years older than Alec. Her gaze was cold and steely and her posture straight, martial, and before she introduced himself, he’d already gathered who she was.

“I'm Lydia Branwell, envoy from the Clave.”

“Alec Lightwood,” Alec replied, reaching to shake her hand. She shook it back. Her hand was strong.

Lydia nodded at him, before walking into the ops center. Maryse and Izzy were coming out of the office, having been suspecting the arrival of the envoy as well. What they weren’t expecting though, was the exact nature of her work with them.

“Maryse,” the woman said, and Izzy almost recoiled at the familiarity in her tone. No, it wasn’t familiarity, it was superiority. “The Clave has ordered me to take temporary control of this Institute.”

“Wait a minute. Nobody informed us,” Maryse protested, and Izzy could see the dread forming knots in her mother’s back. The envoy needed to be careful, or she would maybe get the end of one of Maryse’s famous speeches.

“The Clave doesn't need to,” the envoy repeated, and Izzy watched her intently. Even if she didn’t get along with her mother, she felt protective of her. She felt like she needed to defend her family’s honor against this… woman that came in here and took over their lives. “And, to repeat myself, it's temporary. Nothing's been decided yet.  But I do need full clearance in order to assess how this Institute is running.”

Alec was standing next to the woman, and he didn’t seem as offended by her words as Izzy was. Izzy didn’t understand it. He only radiated some mild suspicion, nothing else. Didn’t he understand that his own work was going to come under scrutiny? That all the unsanctioned missions he’d allowed in the past couple of weeks could come and bite him in the ass?

“Where is Clary Fairchild?” The envoy asked, and everyone stayed silent. Izzy and Alec knew, of course, but they couldn’t exactly tell the woman. “I would hope someone here knows.” back with the condescension. She had no idea what it was like to be on the field, she was probably one of those stuck-up bureaucrat types.

“She's in the field, training,” Alec said.

“You're telling me she's just out and about in the streets of New York? Valentine's daughter?”

“Isn't she also your cousin?” That was the most polite and civil thing Izzy could muster. The way this woman talked to her parabatai sent flares of anger down her spine. Alec had done the most amazing of jobs within the circumstances.

“Distant cousin.”

The envoy’s eyes met Izzy’s. She could see that the woman was displeased, but she didn’t give a fuck. No one attacked her family, no matter where they came from, or why they did so. Izzy wasn’t the type to take the punishment and shut up, not when what they had done was the right thing.

“She's with Jace,” Alec added.

It should have made things better. But it did not. “The same Jace Wayland who decided to lead an unsanctioned raid against the vampires? I've read reports.”

“Jace might be unconventional, but he's our best soldier. If he's with Clary, then she's in good hands.”

That was the moment Maryse decided to step up. When they attacked her precious Jace. Izzy kept her arms crossed, and dug her nails into her arms.

“I hope so. And for your sake, all of New York. All of your jurisdiction better be well protected.” There was a threat in the woman’s voice, and it made the Lightwoods tense.

For a second, Izzy looked at her feet, and wished they’d never bumped into Clary.

 

\------------

 

 _Tallit._ She needed the tallit. Clary burst through the door of Simon’s bedroom. There was an entire mess around them. The mirror of the door was broken, everything had been turned over, as if a tornado had gone through the room.

“Clary, what happened to the plan?” Jace asked, following behind her. “You have to tell her that Simon's not coming home.”

How could she? How could she look into Elaine’s eyes and tell her her son was dead? Elaine had been doing good, but she wasn’t the most stable person either. Clary didn’t want to be responsible for that. She didn’t want to be responsible for more pain.

Death… or starvation. What kind of choice was that? Could she make Simon one of those monsters, possibly condemning him to an eternity of suffering? Could she even live with that on her mind?

“I tried, okay? I just I can't. I'm not ready to just give up on Simon.” She ruffled through his stuff and found the bag. It was dark blue velvet, and embroidered with a silver star of David.

“Would you stop for a second, think about what you're doing?”

“I am, Jace, okay? It's like my brain is telling me to do one thing and my heart another, and, and,” she felt like she was hyperventilating. She had no idea if she actually was. It was like she couldn’t think straight. The tallit was in the bag, and so was Simon’s kippah. “What if he doesn’t get out? What if he hates being a vampire? How can I live with that? And what if I kill him? How can one live with the blood of their best friend on their hands?”

Jace sighed. “Look,” he started, and Clary rolled her eyes, looking back at him. “there was a boy and his father bought him a falcon for his sixth birthday.”

“Are you seriously telling me a story right now?” The timing just couldn’t be worse. Clary didn’t need some story of something that could or could not be Jace’s past. Could he be less dramatic and actually say it was him?

“Please, just listen,” Jace begged, and Clary sat down on the bed, crossing her arms. Maybe if she focused on everything else. “His father told him to tame the bird. Make it obedient.”

Clary hummed. Taming a wild bird, yay weird parenting practices. The only kind of thing Clary had grown up with was that one time she wanted a bunny and her mom told her she would have to take care of it. Should she share that afterward? Was this “share your pet-related memory” time?

“And the boy would spend every day with that falcon. It would scratch at him. Make him bleed. But eventually, he earned its trust. He brought the bird to his father, to show him that the bird would come back to him. He thought his father would be proud.”

“And he was, right?” okay, maybe she was a little invested in this.

“No, Clary. His father took the falcon and snapped its neck.”

“Okay, that is the worst story I have ever heard.” Fucking psychopaths. They were all fucking psychopaths. She stood up and finished putting the tallit bag into her own bag. Was she supposed to be Jace in that story? Was Simon the falcon? What the fuck? This was not the right time. Not at all.

“You're missing the point. Yes, the boy was devastated. But he realized his father was right. He was told to tame the bird not to love it. That's why you have to listen to your head. If I listened to my heart I'd never be able to do my job. Third rule of Shadowhunting: emotions cloud judgment.”

Clary turned slowly back around. His gaze was cold. It froze her to the core. This was a man who was telling her that killing her best friend was the best option. This was a man who was telling her that you could live with blood on your hands. That the only way to lead this life was to be a cold-blooded murderer.

“Jace, if being a Shadowhunter means that I have to be dead inside I'm not sure I want to be one.”

This was the answer to the question he’d asked her earlier. She didn’t know if she wanted to stay if she wanted to be part of this world. Once she had her mom back, she could just go back to her life. Or could she?

If Simon was dead, maybe the life outside of this… Shadowhunter World wasn’t worth living. Clary and her mom could just stay in the Institute, and keep on going on the path that they should have always had been on. Maybe this was the only choice she had.

She looked at the tallit bag. It all came down to this. Simon, partially alive, a life outside of this world. Simon, dead, no life outside of this world.

 

\----------------------------------

 

Lydia Branwell was fine, Alec guessed. She was straight to the point, she was careful of the rules, and he enjoyed that. He enjoyed having someone who was honest and respected the rules. She was a bit like him in a way. He didn’t like her much, but she was way more pleasant then Clary Fairchild. She was a Shadowhunter, an actual one.

“I can see why all the girls in Idris are clamoring to meet you,” Lydia said, something appreciative in her voice.

“What do you mean?” He hadn’t been in Idris in ages. And he hadn’t been there for women, had never really talked to many women outside of what was strictly necessary, and outside of Aline Penhallow, a childhood friend of Izzy and his.

“Rumor has it you're looking to settle down - get married.”

Fuck. Marriage. He’d almost forgotten about that. Or maybe he hadn’t and he had just been lying to himself. _Maybe it’s the will of the angel._ Fuck off, Magnus Bane voice that seemed to be stuck in his head. “Damn it.”

“Let me guess. Not your idea?”

“Not even close,” he grumbled. He didn’t want marriage. Well, he did want marriage, maybe, one day, but on his own terms, and he was certain that those terms couldn’t be met by anyone his parents would consider an appropriate fit.

“My parents tried to set me up, too.”

He wasn’t actually interested in her life story, but it made time pass. Maybe she could reassure him too, not that he wanted reassurance. “And how'd that work out?” Alec dared to hope that she would tell him she’d come to love her husband, that arranged marriages worked out too.

“Not well for them,” Lydia shrugged, and hope was lost. “I made my own path,” she said, and he didn’t look at her. “Married the love of my life, John Monteverde. Together we were going to run the Lisbon Institute,” she paused for a second, and he was expecting the other shoe to drop. And it did. “And then John was killed. Everything was ripped away. My love, my dream job.”

Maybe that was why she followed the rules so much. She’d paid the consequences of not following what her parents had wanted for her, what the Clave had wanted for her. And now… she was all alone. Alec guessed he understood. He was at a crossroads. He had to make a choice for himself, and happiness wasn’t worth the consequences. It just wasn’t.

“Piece of advice,” Lydia said, unaware of the turmoil agitating Alec. “In this line of work, the only thing worth falling in love with is the work itself.”

He mumbled a ‘I’m sorry’, but she didn’t reply anything. It made sense to Alec now. Everything made sense. He hadn’t gotten the reassurance that a marriage of interest would work out alright, but he had gotten enough information on marriages of love to know that he couldn’t risk everything. He couldn’t risk the Institute, his family legacy, he couldn’t risk it all like she had done, and lost it all like she had done, whether his feelings were brought by the Angel or not.

There was work to do, so he followed Lydia into the Jade Wolf. The body of the Forsaken was lying on the ground. Alec let Lydia do her work. She knew what she was doing. He knew too, but he was aware that she was watching them, no matter what she said, and how good and willing to give them the benefits of doubt she seemed. Laying low and letting her take over this was the best idea.

Alec walked around the Jade Wolf looking for some kind of clue until he heard his name being called. He looked up and made its way over. They were having a slightly heated discussion about the body being taken back to the Institute for further examination.

“Actually, I called Alec. But what I didn't want is someone to come down here and just take over,” Luke pointed out.

“Yeah, that's kind of her thing,” Alec said, and it was meant to be a joke, but Lydia didn’t pick up on that. She didn’t know him enough.

“Look, I know I can come across abrasive. But we're all on the same side here. Can we agree on that?” Alec remembered the face she’d made when he’d told her he was in contact with Luke. Lucian Graymark. The disgust, the distrust of the ex-Circle member. Alec understood it. But he could also see the subtle manipulation behind those words. She was smart and strategic. “The Institute has the resources to find out what this thing is.”

“We have an expert forensic pathologist. Highly trained in all the creatures of the Shadow World,” Alec added, clearly siding with Lydia. Izzy was the best in her class. Her fascination for pathology, immunology and Downworld biology was something Alec hadn’t ever really understood, but he’d always respected it, and her skills.

“Do you have one here? In this, uh, Chinese restaurant?”

“Fine,” Luke conceded. “You win. Just let me know what you find.”

“You think Valentine was behind this?” Alec asked the werewolf, while Lydia was on the phone with the Institute.

“No question. It's definitely his work.”

“What do you think he's after?” Alec continued.

“Honestly? Me.”

“So you think Valentine's going after ex-Circle members?” Lydia’s voice resounded. She often had a blunt tone. Alec didn’t mind it, actually.

“I don't know. It might be kind of personal. We have a complicated past. But of course, he could be going after the old crew. I'm sure Valentine has a grudge against anybody who turned against him.”

Lydia nodded. “We'll put extra wards on the Institute.”

“Right, for Hodge.” The tutor needed protection. Though it wasn’t clear how much treason he’d actually done. The Circle rune kept him from talking. Alec doubted it had been applied by the Clave. It seemed more like something the Circle would do, to keep people from divulging secrets.

“And your parents,” Lydia reminded him.

Alec stopped. His parents?

“Did they conceal that from you?”

They did. Alec’s mouth was dry suddenly. He didn’t reply to Lydia’s question, didn’t reply to the look in Luke’s eyes. He shook his head and walked out. Circle members, his parents were Circle members.

Horribly so, a part of his brain told him that it made sense, that he should have seen it coming. They were always so distrustful of Downworlders. They were always so preoccupied with repairing some stain on the family name, and Alec had never been able to pinpoint what that stain was, exactly. When he’d been younger, he’d thought it was him. He’d thought somehow the Clave knew that he wasn’t like the rest, that he liked men.

But now, it all felt clearer. They were Circle members.

Alec walked back to the Institute. He crossed the team that was supposed to take care of the Forsaken’s body on the way and barely nodded at them. Did they know? How many people knew what his family had done? What his parents had done? Were Alec and his siblings the only who had no idea?

They’d lied to him. They’d hidden that from him, and Alec felt the betrayal bite even deeper than the knowledge they were Circle members. He should have been aware. He should have known, they should have told him. He would have been more prepared for the world.

 

\--------------------

 

Hours later, and the same thoughts were still spiraling through Alec’s mind. But with them, the knowledge that it was up to them, up to _him_ , to restore the family name. His parents were right. Misguided, horrible, but damn, they were right.

His fists hit the punching bag again and again. It was familiar and comfortable, and he couldn’t care less who was watching. He just needed it. He needed to train, he needed to feel his body work, he hoped to distract himself, from the decision he needed to make.

Alec wasn’t one to run away from decisions, usually but, this time was different. This time, he just wished he had a bit more time. Lydia’s arrival had precipitated everything, she was oil in the cogs of the machinery of the rest of the life he had to have.

He wanted to stay focused on the punching bag, but a man walked into his field of vision. He looked up. Magnus Bane. He looked handsome, as he had the last times Alec had seen him. And he was staring at Alec’s bare chest.

Alec wasn’t shy about his body, but he hadn’t really been looked at that way before. No, that was wrong, he had been looked at that way before, but never by men, never so… shamelessly.

“Magnus,” he said. He didn’t know if he was happy to see him. He’d known Magnus would be around the Institute since he was supposed to consult on the case of that strange Forsaken. But still.

Alec walked past him, reaching for a sweater, pulling it up. The man seemed to want a conversation, and he didn’t want to get cold.

“Oh, you don't have to get dressed up for me,” Magnus said, and Alec had almost a small smile. He still zipped up the sweater half-way. “Fine,” Magnus rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. “But I liked what I saw.”

So flirty. Alec didn’t really know how to deal with that so he said nothing. He remembered their conversation on the phone. It felt like decades ago. It had only been what? 30 hours?

“I have the preliminary autopsy findings,” Magnus extended a hand towards him, a hand holding a file.

“Why are you giving this to me? This should go to the head of the Institute.”

“And it is.”

Alec felt his mouth dry up again. “I'm not. And I never will be.”

He didn’t want to look at the warlock in the eyes, not when the man probably knew what his family had done. He’d probably seen every act of it. Because of what his parents had done, every dream he had ever had, every hope that his job could at least be something he wanted to do was gone.

He would end up like Lydia, maybe. Envoy from the Clave. No real consequential job. His father and mother would be like Henry Branwell, the last of the Lightwoods to ever have the job of Head of Institute.

Lydia had had the same dreams he’d had, and she had been robbed the way he had. Maybe not in the same circumstances, but she certainly knew the law, and knew enough about leadership as well as field work to make a good Head of Institute. And she hadn’t lied to him.

“Magnus, it's like it's like my whole life has been a lie,” he said, and he hated the distress his voice was carrying, he hated that he was saying this to this man, to this warlock that he found attractive, to someone he shouldn’t tell these things to. “Now, everything I've ever known is -”

“It's not what you thought?”

Magnus knew the words that were escaping him. Alec almost wanted to ask him why he hadn’t told him about his parents being Circle members. It felt like it wasn’t fair, that the warlock, for some reason, should have disclosed it to him.

Nothing about this was fair. He’d done everything, accepted every order, every punishment, every consequence. He’d pushed himself past limits, lost sleep, over their orders, over their wishes. Over the idea that he was the one who had to repair what he had done to the family.

“I've done everything for my parents, for the Clave and…” he stopped, words escaping him again for a second. “I've done everything that they've asked.”

“Maybe you should start living for yourself.”

This wasn’t what Alec wanted to hear. This wasn’t… he didn’t… he didn’t know what to reply to that. The colossal amount of work he would have to do now that he knew what had caused the stain on the Lightwood name couldn’t be resolved if he just...decided to be selfish.

“Do what's in your heart,” Magnus added, and… it made sense. His heart was his family. This was what he needed to do. Take care of them. Make sure none of his, Izzy’s or Jace’s children would have to suffer the way they’d had because of Robert and Maryse’s mistakes.

“I can't believe I'm saying this. I think you're right.”

 

\---------------------

 

Clary was cold. She had no idea if it was due to the weather, or if it was because she was in a cemetery, burying her best friend, taking the decision to turn him into a vampire. She tried not to think about it too much, about his lifeless body in Jace’s arms, about the questioning look of the vampire, Raphael, who was guiding them through the process.

She couldn’t live without him. She just couldn’t imagine a world where Simon wouldn’t be by her side, and if she had to make him a vampire for that to happen… he would be okay. Raphael seemed alright. It seemed like he wouldn’t have a bad life as a vampire.

Jace put his body down, and Clary kept her attention on his face. She couldn’t look at Simon right now. She just needed to get through this and make him come back.

A shiver ran down her spine again. She turned around, sensing a presence there that she could not see. Yet. Jace took out his seraph blade, and the vampire that was chasing them appeared in front of them.

The tree rustled as a woman looked at them. Camille Belcourt. She remembered her from the file she’d seen after Simon had been taken. A beautiful, but icy woman.

“What do you want?” Clary asked. Couldn’t she leave them alone?

“I want my property back.”

Clary wanted to puke. “Simon is not your property.”

“If you'll just hand him over, I'll be on my way.”

Why would she even want him? The only way he would be resurrected was through burial. And Camille surely wanted him to come back right? Nothing made sense. Clary didn’t even want to think about it. Clary grabbed her own seraph blade and didn’t even give her a reply. Camille wouldn’t lay her hands on Simon’s body.

“Fine,” Camille’s voice had a hint of exasperation to it as if she just couldn’t be more annoyed with their defense of Simon. “I tried to do this the nice way.”

With a snap of her fingers, the rest of the clan was surrounding her. They were too many. It was just Jace and her, and she wasn’t even really trained. They couldn’t take all of them down if they attacked them.

“I'm glad you brought everyone here to witness your demise,” Raphael spoke up, to her surprise. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Clary he hadn’t wanted any of this when he said he wasn’t a friend of Camille’s. It had been so hard for Clary to trust his word. Everything she’d been told about vampires, everything she’d ever known about vampires told her not to trust her. And now Simon was going to be one of those creatures of the night. 

“Camille killed this mundane,” Raphael continued. “Now, I have all the proof. She's been breaking the Accords for too long now. He's the evidence we need to show the Clave what Camille has been doing.”

Oh. _Oh_. That was why Camille had asked for the body back. So she could erase the evidence of her obvious illegal activities. A part of Clary hated that her best friend was reduced to blackmail material in a vampire leadership war.

“Are you trying to overthrow me?” Camille seemed not to be distraught by the threats.

“No. I already have.”

“Don't listen to him,” she rolled her eyes, looking at her clan, “Raphael doesn't know the first thing about leading. You need me. I've given you everything you could want. All the riches. All the pleasures you could desire.”

“By breaking the law. Which will only destroy us.”

“We can fix this. If we just get rid of the body, this mundane means nothing.”

Something inside of Clary snapped. No. No, Simon wasn’t just somebody you could throw away and forget about. He wasn’t meaningless.

“‘Means nothing’? Over my dead body.” She hissed. Her fist collided with the face of the vampire. It hurt, but fuck, it felt awesome.

Camille cowered back, and seconds later, the entirety of the clan, save for Raphael, had left the premises, probably chasing the overthrown leader away from their territory. Now was time for the difficult part. Burying Simon.

“Clary it's time.” Raphael now held a stake and a shovel. “Which will it be?”

Her eyes fixed on the shovel and didn’t even give the stake one thought. She’d made her decision a long time ago. She didn’t care what Jace thought of her after this, she didn’t care if it made her unfit for this world. All she cared about was Simon. She took the shovel.

They’d marked down the rectangle area of earth that she was supposed to dig, and she got to work. Eventually, Jace and Raphael joined her to help. She focused on that. On digging deep enough for him to be able to come back, but not too deep. If it was too deep, he didn’t have a chance to come back.

She draped him in his tallit. It hurt. It hurt so much she could barely breathe, but she had to be strong, for Simon. She had to be strong enough.

“When your grandfather gave you this at your bar mitzvah,” she said, and she didn’t care if she could only stumble through the words if she was butchering the pronunciation he had spent a whole afternoon trying to teach her when they were 13. “You told me how much it meant to you.”

It had been some tearful speech that she couldn’t really entirely understand, something that non-Jews couldn’t really get, but she’d seen how much it meant to him. She’d seen the way he straightened up when he wore it.

“It was a symbol of the day you became a man. It was the symbol of your identity, of your ancestry, and of your legacy,” she whispered, and she reached to gently stroke his hair. “Simon, no matter what happens, no matter what you become, you will always be that man to me.”

Raphael gently carried the body down the grave she’d dug. Simon laid there. And… she realized that no matter what happened, even if he came back. Simon was dead. Simon had died, and Simon was gone, and maybe he wouldn’t be the same when he came back.

She’d lost him. Maybe forever.

 

\------------------------

 

He didn’t have a ring, but he knew his father would refuse if he asked for the family ring. Alec took a deep breath. There was no real other option. He couldn’t lose everything.

Something in his mother’s eyes earlier had changed everything. The sorrow when Lydia had told them that the Institute wasn’t theirs anymore. The shame. Alec was aware that it wasn’t his fault now, or at least not entirely, but it didn’t change what he had to do.

Marriage wasn’t necessarily made to be about love. Maybe in the mundane world, but not in their world. Not when everything a Shadowhunter was could so easily be taken away. Not when it held to so little.

He walked into the room. “Lydia, do you have a minute?” His voice wasn’t even shaking. He was proud of that. He was proud of the fact he didn’t have a single doubt. He knew what he had to do, and he knew it was the best option, no matter what anyone said.

“Alec, I'm sorry about your parents, but my hands were tied.”

“Look, I - I know.” He knew. His parents deserved it, in a way, for what they had done, but there was a means to make himself not lose everything. There was a way for him, and for his family to stay upright. “The law is hard, but it's the law, and I respect that. But I've realized that I have to listen to my heart.”

“Let's not forget where that got me.” Her chuckle was bitter. Alec understood. She didn’t know what he had to offer though.

“I know. And I can't bring John back. But, like you said, our families have been strong allies. And we can use that to our advantage.”

He saw in her eyes the moment where she understood. The moment where she knew what he was going to do. Alec did like that about her. They had the same thought process, they had very similar minds.

“Together, we can restore my family name and we can keep the Institute,” he said.

“And we'd get to run it.”

Alec nodded. He slowly uncrossed his arms, and got to one knee. This was not how he’d pictured ever doing this, but this was right.

“Lydia Branwell will you marry me, Alec Lightwood?”

 

\------------------

 

Everything was black and everything burnt, and there was an incredibly heavy weight on his chest. He needed to get out of it. He needed to get away from the weight, he needed to go out, he needed to eat.

He opened his mouth to bite at whatever was on top of him and got a mouthful of dirt in the process. His body tried to cough it back up but every time he tried, he got more dirt shoved down his throat.

He was suffocating. Both because of the weight compressing his lungs, and because of the dirt that seemed to refuse to get out of his body. Around him was silence. Was he deaf? He couldn’t even hear his heart pounding as something that felt like panic submerged him.

He was stuck in complete silence. He was stuck in complete silence under the earth. Was he dead? He was hungry. He was so hungry. He could only feel that. And his mouth hurt. He needed to get out. He needed to eat.

It burnt in his stomach. It burnt his throat. Or maybe that was the dirt. His arm went through the dirt on top of him. It wasn’t really compressed actually. It was easy to get through.

He curled up on himself; stood up, the dirt moving around him, and he swam up. Up there, there was food, he could smell it. It smelled delicious. It made his throat and stomach burn even more. He needed it, he needed all of it.

His hand reached up into a complete lack of dirt. Up. He was almost there. He could hear prey outside. He could hear it, the thing that smelled so good. He was there. His eyes stayed closed. He pulled himself out of the dirt he’d been in.

His eyes opened. Food.

“Simon,” the girl said. She smelled so good. She was… she was… he didn’t know who she was. Food? “It’s me, it’s Clary.” He wanted to grab her and eat, she smelled so good. He reached for her but she got away.

His head hurt. His stomach hurt. He coughed out dirt. He wanted to eat. Everything smelled so good, why couldn’t he get it? A bag of food landed in front of him. He grabbed it and bit it. The plastic tasted bad, but the food was good.

There was more and more food. It was the only thing he could think of. It tasted like heaven. It made him feel strong. Made the burn stop. He put down the last of the bags. No more food. He closed his eyes.

Simon looked up and saw Clary. She looked at him, horrified. She was standing so far away. His stomach still burnt but he could think past it now.

“Clary, what's happening?”

He couldn’t hear his blood, but he could hear hers. He could hear her blood and how fast her heart was beating, how fast she was breathing. He could see her eyes, so wide, so afraid.  He coughed out a mix of dirt and blood. He wished there was more to eat.

“You…” she started, and her voice was loud. And… scared. “you died.”

“I what?” He had died. He remembered it now. Camille’s hands around his neck. The smell of food still came off of the bags on the ground. He grabbed one of them. “What's this?” The label read ‘o neg’.

“That's blood!” he wanted to puke it all out. It was too good. He didn’t want it to be good. Blood wasn’t made to be drunk. That meant… no. No, it couldn’t be. Was this a joke? Why was he so hungry.

“Oh, my Oh, my -” he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t say it. “Why can't I say..”

“God,” Raphael’s voice resounded, and Simon’s head snapped up to follow the sound. “It'll take time to regain the ability. There's a lot you will need to learn.”

How could he… Was he… no. No. He wanted to stop this. It was a bad dream. It was the worst dream. He shuddered from head to toe. His throat was still burning and his eyes were welling up with tears too. Everything hurt. He felt like his heart was going to stop. His heart wasn’t beating.

“Oh, my Damn it!”

He couldn’t even say ‘God’. He couldn’t even say ‘God’, and it broke him. What had he become? What was he?

“Am I Am I a vampire?” Please say no, Clary, please say no. But he knew, from the way she was looking at him. The way she was looking at him like he was a monster.

“Yeah.”

“Clary, tell me - tell me this isn't real. Tell me this is not really happening!” He was in so much pain. He was a monster now. He was a monster, an undead monster, who wanted to drink her blood.

She begged for his forgiveness but he couldn’t even hear it over the sounds of her heart beating.

“ - I'm I'm repulsive.”

She was crying and begging. He needed to leave. He needed to go far away. She didn’t know what it felt like. How could he still be the same Simon, when he felt this hunger when he felt his pain that he had never felt before? She didn’t feel the things he felt in his own body. How could she say he was still the same?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 9 - Rise Up - Part 1
> 
> Starting next week, the episodes will be split in two, as to not have any chapter longer than 10k and make the fun last a bit longer! 
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	9. Rise Up - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> We start today with the first of the episodes that were split in two so I wouldn't post chapters longer than 10k. 
> 
> This is Rise Up, Part 1, full of angst, and coming to terms with new realities. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It wasn’t difficult for Raphael to catch up to the fledgling. He had yet to entirely master the speed at which he was running, alternating between phases of vampire speed, and mundane speed. 

He knew how strange it was in the beginning, how the speed was both scary and exhilarating. He had to catch him before some mundanes saw him though. Disheveled, covered in mud and blood, and looking like he was straight out of a horror movie. And too hungry to be around humans without surveillance. 

“Where do you think you're going?” Raphael asked.

Simon’s eyes were filled with panic and fear, fear about what he had become, and fear about the future. Raphael understood wholeheartedly, and, in his experience, this fear never entirely left you. 

“This can't be happening.” Simon hissed before storming past him. 

Raphael grabbed his shoulder to stop him. “Listen-” 

“Don't touch me!”

There weren’t too many mundanes out at this hour, thank God. He didn’t want to have to deal with the Clave for revealing the Shadow World to half of Brooklyn. Raphael had had too many run-ins with Shadowhunters lately, enough to last him at least one decade. 

In front of him, the young vampire was still panicking. “I don't have a heartbeat! I'm dead.”

“Undead. Magic is sustaining you now.” Raphael explained. He knew the explanation wouldn’t exactly help. He himself didn’t know what it meant. Demonic magic kept their bodies in a strange state between death and life. But the rest… he couldn’t explain it. 

Raphael was a bit young, to vampire standards. He would soon be 80 years old. It had felt like forever to him, but at least some of his family was still alive. He couldn’t really fathom what it was like for people whose siblings had been dead for centuries. People like Magnus, the man Raphael considered almost a father. 

Was it harder to be immortal when your family was around, knowing you only had a limited amount of time before they realized you were not aging, then staying away for decades? Or was it harder to be alone? 

Raphael still had Rosa, but he was aware these days wouldn’t last forever. Simon had his entire family, and he was at that age where he could very well pass for any age between 20 and 30, with a bit of luck. He had time before he had to say goodbye for good. 

“I know this is hard right now, but you have to get yourself under control. At least until we’re at the DuMort.” He said, as soothingly as he could muster. Yes, he was a bit annoyed with the constant rambling coming from the fledgling’s mouth, but in Simon’s defense, he was pretty much in shock.

“You are what you are now. We have to go. Get you fed. Get you some clothes that won’t get the cops called on you. Show you around your new home.”

Simon grabbed him then. It was like something had snapped suddenly. “That place will never be my home.” He growled before sending Raphael flying into the nearby truck.

Raphael grunted as he hit the side of the truck. When he got back on his feet, Simon was gone. If that kid ruined one more jacket, he was going to lock him in a casket for a moment to teach him manners.

 

\---------------------

 

Almost a day later, Magnus wasn’t exactly surprised to be called again by the Shadowhunters. He had kinda been expecting some other task they’d want him to perform, after his quick consult about the Forsaken. He’d felt some hints of a foreign magic coming off of the creature, but he hadn’t exactly been able to distinguish it from the surrounding angelic energy. 

The Institute was like a block of angelic power, with occasional warlock-style bandaids on the wards. A bit like the ones he was currently applying. It had been an order from Lydia Branwell, the new acting Head of the Institute. 

Shadowhunter politics could be a bit hard to follow, but a part of Magnus was satisfied that the Lightwood name didn’t stand as proud on official papers anymore. Perhaps were they finally getting some consequences for all of their crimes. No matter how hard they pretended, Magnus had heard of Maryse Lightwood’s exploits within the Circle. How she’d been one of Valentine Morgenstern’s closest friends.

“Are the wards solid now? Nothing will get through?” 

Magnus rolled his eyes. Impatient Shadowhunters. They had no idea the actual nature of the work he’d just done. And they didn’t know its limits. 

“Even my magic has limits. The wards won't hold off that Forsaken attack. But my protections will slow them down.”

Alec stood silently next to his father, and Magnus tried not to stare. There was a bandage on his arm, where he’d been injured by the Forsaken. 

“Extra time is priceless.” Robert Lightwood said, distracting Magnus again. 

“Say that after you get my bill,” he chuckled, turning with a flourish. 

The man’s eyes were almost friendly as he leaned a bit closer to say, “Lydia will take care of that.” as if it was the only thing that woman was good for. Signing paperwork. Magnus couldn’t judge, he didn’t know her. He didn’t exactly plan on getting to know her outside of work situations. 

There was one naphil he didn’t mind getting to know more, and that naphil was Alec. Who looked thoughtful, in a way. It suited him. Magnus didn’t really know why he was thinking so softly about this man, but the fragility in his voice, on the phone a couple of nights ago when he’d asked him if he was really normal… it had struck something deep within Magnus.

He had taken years to accept himself entirely, decades even. After leaving his father’s realm, he’d tried to get away from the things he’d done while under his roof. Lust had been a weapon Asmodeus had told him to use. Watching men who wished not to feel what they felt succumb to his charms had been a bliss Magnus did not want to ever taste again. 

It had taken decades for him to kiss a man again. And even longer to accept that he was who he was. He loved men, women, people who were neither of these genders. He loved and desired many. Magnus was not ashamed anymore. Help from Catarina, Dorothea and Ragnor had been his greatest tools, but… he realized that many didn’t have the chance of knowing that queerness wasn’t an abomination.

And Alec… young lost Shadowhunter who looked like his own identity threatened to suffocate him every second… he was the kind of people Magnus felt a connection to. The kind of people he, despite himself, wanted to help. 

“A Forsaken wound often needs a little warlock TLC. May I? Uh, free of charge.”

“It's okay.” The man moved away before Magnus could touch him. Alec’s eyes were colder than the last time Magnus had looked into them. Hours before, he hadn’t shied away from touch, and now… “I'm fine.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be -.” 

“Magnus!” Alec snapped. There was something wrong. Something Magnus couldn’t exactly pinpoint, but Alec was now pushing him away. He looked around himself, anxious of possible witnesses to the softness in Magnus’ voice, no doubt. “I'm good. All right?”

He was avoiding looking at Magnus in the eye now. “I gotta-”

Well, if he wanted to push him away, Magnus wasn’t going to really beg for him to look at him. “Go? Of course. You're a busy man. And I should find this Lydia person. Payment upfront is just smart business. Where might I find her?” Magnus couldn’t help the nervousness that was slowly seeping into him. Alec would never realize it, no, it was too hidden behind the makeup, the flourish, the dramatics.

“I haven't seen her. But if I do, I'll send her your way.” Alec barely looked at him before rushing away. 

Magnus followed his path through the ops room until he was distracted by the arrival of someone he wasn’t exactly surprised to see in the Institute. Meliorn was a famed diplomat of the Seelie Court, often sent in missions with the Clave, or with other Shadow Kinds. 

They’d crossed paths several times at Seelie-Warlock conventions about magic, and though Magnus didn’t trust the man, he respected him. He was a well-spoken, well-researched and intelligent person, and he could definitely see how he was an asset to the Seelie Queen. 

Meliorn noticed him as well, and they exchanged a courteous nod, before the Seelie’s attention was taken by Isabelle Lightwood’s surprised greeting. Magnus exited the room, walking towards where he knew the Head of Institute’s office to be. He would maybe find this Lydia person there. 

The door of the office was ajar as he walked up to it, and his fingers knocking on the wood to signal his presence. There was a gasp, and the shuffling sound of paper being moved around before he peeked inside the room. 

“Maryse Lightwood,” he said, with a raised eyebrow. “Setting your affairs in order?” 

“Magnus Bane,” the woman replied, crossing her arms. “Snooping around the office of the Head of Institute?”

“I was simply searching for Ms. Branwell. I have a bill that she needs to sign.” Magnus said, walking into the room. The woman was obviously uncomfortable with his presence there. They’d never gotten along, really, though it wasn’t as if Magnus had ever wanted to. Just like with Lydia Branwell, he did not care to know Maryse outside of Institute business. 

“Well, she’s not here.” 

Magnus stayed silent. He didn’t know what to say to this woman. They’d been on opposite sides forever, and she’d done too much to even warrant a second chance. He wanted to gloat, he wanted to turn the knife in what he knew was a huge, infected wound in her pride. 

“I think your son knows,” Magnus said, and he saw the shock and fear on her face. 

“How?” Maryse asked, voice cracking. “Did  _ you _ tell him?” 

Magnus almost scoffed at the accusatory tone. “Come on, Maryse, I don’t go around just… babbling to everyone about whatever their parents have done. I assumed he knew as everyone else does.” 

She fell silent, starting to pace slightly. Magnus watched her. He wished to know what she was thinking then. Was she ashamed? Was she afraid her son would hate her? Did she care enough about her children? 

Magnus chastised himself. He didn’t know her relationship with her children. Maybe it wasn’t a bad one. Maybe she wasn’t horrible in every regard. 

“How did you manage to hide it from him, for 18 years?” Magnus asked her, making her stop in her tracks. 

“I… I don’t know. I have no idea why no one ever told any of them when they were at the Academy. There was the ban but… I can’t believe everyone followed it as dutifully as we did. Surely, someone must have told their children what they’d seen us do, hoping it would smear our reputation.” 

“Were you ever going to tell him?” 

Maryse licked her lips. Her silence gave Magnus the answer. 

“You wouldn’t have. If the ban had been kept forever, you’d never had come clean, no matter how hard he tried to repair the damage you were responsible for.” It wasn’t a question. Maryse wasn’t looking at him in the eyes. She knew he was right. 

 

\---------------------------

 

Luke didn’t really know what to think. How to think about what Clary had done for Simon. Or to Simon. He had too much history, too much pain associated with this. And Clary had told him, it wasn’t coming from the same place… from the same reason as his Change. It wasn’t Valentine forcing him to become what they both thought was a monster. It was Clary, unable to imagine a life without Simon. 

They’d found the young man at his home, where he’d spent the daylight time curled up in his closet, the door closed, starving and trying to get some rest, hoping his mother would not find him and force him out in the sun. Fortunately, she’d only noticed him once the night had fallen again, and he’d been out of his hiding place.

“I feel sick,” Simon said.

“Don't worry, we'll get you what you need,” Luke replied, sounding as reassuring as he could. He had no idea how to feel about Simon, Simon who was the closest he had to a son. 

“I need this to stop.”

“I've been there before,” he didn’t even know if it was the same for vampires. Werewolves didn’t really have the same hunger. But he knew the desire to make it all stop. To either come back to life or… “It'll get better.” Luke was a good liar.

“I'll help you through this.” Clary almost sounded hopeful. She almost sounded like she really believed what she was saying. 

Luke knew he shouldn’t blame her. He shouldn’t think that her choice had condemned Simon to an eternity of misery. It was just because he hated vampires, and Simon was his son. Simon was never going to be like one of these… bloodsuckers. 

“No, you can't,” Simon snapped. “Clary, I was a regular guy. I had a life. A regular life. And today I almost tore my mother apart. What if I do that to you?”

”Simon, you won't.”

“Get away.” He demanded, before walking away. 

Luke sent Clary a look. She had to take care of him. She had to tell him why he was back, and where he was going to go, and she had to be there for Simon, the way Jocelyn had been there for him all those years ago. No matter how horrified Clary was, no matter what she thought of vampires, Simon was now one, and it was her choice. She had to own up to that and support him. 

“Can you get the car?”

Luke nodded and left them alone for a moment. He’d get to the car, and spend a couple of minutes in it so they had more time to talk. He had things to do anyway. He got into the car and grabbed his phone. Alaric didn’t answer, so he called someone else he could trust. Maia answered and listened to him, as he explained that he needed Alaric and her to take over the pack for maybe one or two days. Long enough to get Simon’s situation handled, and deal with Clary as well. He didn’t want the pack to be leaderless.

He put his phone down and sighed. Simon was a vampire. He closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want Simon to be a vampire, he didn’t want anyone to become a vampire. Vampires weren’t… they were cold and murderous.

Luke hated that that was the first thought that came to his mind now that he thought about Simon. He thought of Raphael Santiago and Camille Belcourt, the two vampires he really had been in contact through time with the pack, and New York Shadow World politics. 

Sometimes, he wondered whether the way he felt about vampires, the slight suspicion when he talked to warlocks, came from his past as a Shadowhunter. He was aware it was unlikely everything he’d learned, everything he’d ever believed in, had disappeared when he’d become a werewolf. 

Maybe it was that that fueled the hatred he felt when he met with the leader of the New York clan. Maybe it had nothing to do with them, and everything to do with the way he’d been brought up in the Clave’s world. 

He sighed and turned on the engine. They were probably done talking.    
  


\-----------------

 

Meliorn was bored. He just couldn’t help but be so very deeply bored by everything that was happening. It wasn’t the first time in his life that he’d been arrested by a bunch of overzealous shadowhunters. It was still the first time the charges were this ridiculous.

Why on Earth would seelies be allied with Valentine Morgenstern? The man advocated for the death of all demon-blooded people, and as the Clave quite enjoyed reminding them, Seelies had some. Seelies were a smart people, smart enough to realize that maybe, siding with a genocidal maniac was not the best option for survival.

“Forensics don't lie,” the blonde woman said, and Meliorn rolled his eyes. “Tell me what you know about the blood in the Forsaken.”

The woman was vaguely familiar. Maybe he’d seen her during his recent diplomatic mission in Idris. Whoever she was, she was much less pleasant to deal with than Isabelle. 

It had been a bit strange to see her earlier. They rarely met outside of his home, and never at the Institute. And here she had been, hugging him tightly, like she missed him. Maybe she did miss him. Meliorn sure missed her. 

He hadn’t been surprised by her fire message. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. She was a Lightwood after all, and she’d often made those comments, said things he knew she didn’t really realize. Isabelle was born and bred into this racism, into these ideas that anyone demon-blooded was suspicious and violent.

Once, he’d thought maybe seeing him would change something but… It hadn’t. Meliorn hadn’t given up, but he hadn’t ended anything either. He enjoyed her. A lot. Lightwoods despised those they called Downworlders. And in a way, Isabelle was her parents’ daughter.

Earlier, she’d looked so much like Maryse Trueblood, with her honey-coated words of reassurance. She’d always been sweet in that specific, demanding way, but… today she looked the part too. Almost austere in that long-sleeved, high-collared dress of hers. 

“Have you considered that the blood in the Forsaken came from our dead scouts? Scouts sent to help you hunt for Valentine.”

There was a hint of surprise on the blonde woman’s face. She was young and inexperienced. Bad, at interrogations. He rolled his eyes again. How ridiculous was this entire ordeal? 

“Why do you think we would side with a murderer?” Meliorn added. 

“Seelies always play both sides.” 

Stereotypical Shadowhunter bullshit. He closed his eyes for a second to contain the sigh of complete pity that almost left his lips. 

“You always are wary of our cunning, and yet, you are so quick to believe that we would be blind to Valentine Morgenstern’s ideas,” Meliorn replied.  _ Pathetic.  _ “You should talk to your own people about playing sides.”

“Excuse me?”

He could have laughed. He could have laughed so loudly at the look on the woman’s face, at her surprise. How was she so uninformed? The Clave always prided themselves on being the best, but a fifty-year-old Seelie knew more than her.

“You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? If only Shadowhunters had a better relationship with us Downworlders, you'd know that Valentine's daughter has the Cup.”

 

\-------------

 

Clary was trying not to puke. Puking would make everything worse. This was her best friend that was in front of her, looking at a bag of blood with barely repressed hunger. And she’d been telling him over and over again that he hadn’t changed, that their relationship hadn’t changed. 

She just couldn’t get sick at the mere idea of him drinking blood. It was her fault if he had to, she’d chosen to see him drink blood, she had to own it. 

"Just drink. You can do it, Simon." Luke said, encouragingly. 

He looked like he was okay with this. Clary didn’t know how to read him. She didn’t even know how to feel right now, about anything that was happening. She was in the dark, with what was happening in the Institute, with what was happening here too. 

Luke had tried to keep her updated on what little he knew, but she was so focused on the mess she’d created with Simon… 

This was all her fault. Simon had died, and now he was back, and she’d not only chosen for him to come back as this… undead creature, but she’d always precipitated him into this entire world into the first place.

Without her, he would be playing guitar with Maureen right now. Now, he was staring at a bag of blood. Clary turned away from him. Thankfully, her phone started ringing then, with perfect timing. Simon would think she’d turned because of her phone, not because of the blood. 

On the screen of her phone was a picture of Jace’s arm, the focus obviously on the rune that was on the back of his triceps. It was shaped like a stylized Z with a - crossing it in the middle. Cool? She called Jace’s cell to know what was going on for him to send him that. 

"Hey, what's with the picture?"

"Draw it. Now," the demanding urgency in his tone made her raise an eyebrow. "It's a Blocking rune. It prevents anyone from finding you using Shadowhunter tracking."

"Why would I need to draw that? Jace, what’s going on?" Clary asked. She should have asked him to keep him updated on what was going on with the Institute, with the Clave. Behind her, Luke was trying to reassure Simon, telling him that it would be okay. 

"The Clave heard you had the Cup," he whispered, "They think you're working with Valentine."

How? No one other than the three Lightwood siblings knew she had the Cup. The Lightwoods, and Luke, and Simon. People that would not betray her… Except for Alec. He was the only one that could betray her if the Clave gave him a logical reason to. 

"Oh, my God. Did Alec…" 

"It wasn’t him, Clary." She didn’t truly believe that. Even if Jace seemed to be convinced of it. And now… now that Alec could be against them…  “Anyway, we have a problem. We lost the Cup, it isn’t in the…” 

"I have it," Clary cut him. 

They couldn’t lose the Cup. It was Clary’s only bargaining chip to get her mother back. She would do anything to have her back, no matter what. If push came to shove...

"You need to get to someplace safe," Jace added. "Someplace the Clave would never look. Wherever you go, I’ll find you."

"Okay. Good luck." Clary hung up. 

She guessed she could have asked how he would find her. But she didn’t. She grabbed her stele and drew the rune on her arm. Fuck it still burnt when she did it. She bit her lip and put her phone and stele back into her pockets. 

Luke raised a questioning eyebrow at her. 

"We have to get somewhere hidden," she explained. "They’re searching for me. They think I have the Cup, and they think I’m working with Valentine. We'll go to Jade Wolf."

"The Clave know you like family. They'll look there first."

There was one place Clary could think of. But she didn’t know if it was a good idea. Simon was starving himself, and going back there… it was dangerous; for everyone. For her, and for him. She knew he wasn’t likely to go where he’d died. 

"Simon, we're going to see the one person who can help us both."

Luke was never going to be able to help the way Raphael Santiago could. Simon looked away. It was obvious he did not want to go, but Clary decided that now, he wouldn’t get to choose. She wasn’t going to stay out there in the open, let herself get caught, and let her best friend starve. 

They drove to the Hotel DuMort. Simon was silent in the back of the car. Luke seemed… Again, Clary couldn’t read Luke’s expression. It bothered her. 

 

\-----------------

 

Meliorn had given out their secret. He’d told Lydia what she’d told him in the confidence of his home, he’d betrayed her. Izzy  _ knew  _ that she shouldn’t be thinking that. 

Meliorn was only trying to save himself. The stakes were much higher for him than they were for Clary, but somehow… A part of her was angry that he’d betrayed her. Angry that he hadn't been able to keep his tongue, and had revealed that she was telling things when she was in his bed.

Alec had shut himself off entirely, and she knew it only meant that he agreed with Lydia. Lydia, the woman who had arrested Meliorn; and the woman who was going to marry Alec. The woman who was going to rob him of his happiness, of his future… for what? Politics. 

Izzy felt sick. How had it come this far? How had this all happened? Less than a month ago, the only thing she was worried about was getting ichor on her favorite dress. Now her brother and parabatai was getting married, her ex-lover was arrested, interrogated for something that didn’t even make sense, Valentine Morgenstern was back, the Mortal Cup was gone… Simon was now a vampire. 

Izzy looked up from the tablet she was holding, and looked at Jace for a second. They were both erasing the images of Clary breaking into the safe and taking the Cup that they’d just found on the servers. They understood why she’d done it, but it didn’t make it better for any of them.

She was about to go back to her task when she saw Meliorn being escorted out of the room he’d been kept in. He was cuffed, and two Shadowhunters were holding his arms. She looked into his eyes and saw the revolt. Behind him came Alec and Lydia.

The way they walked in synch made something in her heart break. The look on Alec’s face, how closed off he seemed to be. It was even worse than usual. He looked like a robot. 

“Where are you taking him?” Izzy demanded to know. 

“To a holding cell,” Lydia replied, in her blunt and emotionless tone. “And a guard unit will transport him to the Silent Brothers.”

The Silent Brothers would kill him. One way or another, he would die in there, either by growing completely insane, tortured day and night by the Brothers’ illusions, or being one of the numerous Downworlders the Clave executed.

“You can't do that!”

They kept walking towards the elevator, probably on their way back to the Head of Institute office. The office they now shared. 

“It's not our decision, Isabelle. The Clave made the order.”

Alec was calling her ‘Isabelle’. He never did that. He called her Izzy, or Iz, or sister, or parabatai, but never, never Isabelle. Something was wrong, something was so wrong, and Izzy knew it was all Lydia Branwell’s fault. 

“That could be a death sentence to a Downworlder.” Jace had followed in Izzy’s steps. At least,  _ he  _ was on her side.

“Are you trying to start a war with them?” She knew better. She knew better than Alec what Seelies were like. The Seelie Queen would not take well to one of her Knights being imprisoned and sentenced to torture. “Meliorn's told you everything he knows.”

“You don't know that.” Angel, Izzy hated this woman. She hated everything about this woman, from her tight, flawless ponytail, to the way she talked, the matter-of-fact way she sentenced people to death, to a life of unhappiness. “Maybe we haven't asked the right questions. Seelies often skirt the truth. If he has information on another terrorist attack, it is our responsibility to get it.”

He didn’t! Meliorn didn’t know anything because the Seelies had no reason to ally with Valentine! But no matter how Izzy said it, she knew Lydia was never going to hear her. She knew it because Lydia thought she knew better. Because she thought the Law was the only thing that mattered. 

“Let me talk to him,” she said. At least, Izzy could talk to him properly. “That wasn't exactly helpful in the past,” Lydia reminded her. It had. It had been helpful. They’d saved Simon thanks to him, they’d gotten several demons with his intel. Meliorn had always been useful, to all of them. 

“But he may not know anything,” Jace interjected, and Izzy almost sighed. This wasn’t exactly the point. Meliorn had already proven he knew more than they thought. He’d told them that Clary had the Cup. That was enough for them to imagine that he knew more. 

Izzy hated that it made logical sense. She hated that, behind the obviously prejudiced reasons why they were taking Meliorn in, there was enough of an excuse. She hated that she had told him about Clary and the Cup. It was all her fault, Meliorn was going to die and it was all her fault. 

Alec walked away from his sister and brother, staying firmly to the side of the woman he’d chosen to spend the rest of his life with. She was right. He knew she was, they were following orders and it made sense. It made so much sense. 

Izzy was clouded by her emotions, again. She cared too much for a Downworlder, and that never leads to anything good. Alec could remember many cautionary tales from his academy days, about those who got too close to Downworlders, those who chose them over their mission. 

As they approached their office, Alec noticed that Magnus Bane was waiting in the corridor next to it, nonchalantly leaning against the wall with an expression of pure boredom mated with annoyance on his face.

Talking of Downworlders…

Alec turned to Lydia and told her he would take care of dealing with the warlock. She thanked him and left for the bedroom she’d settled into. Alec didn’t watch her leave, he just turned to the warlock again. 

“Place is secure,” Bane said, as an introduction. Alec knew the place was secure, he’d seen the warlock deal with it earlier. 

“I’m guessing you’re waiting for your payment.”

“Ms. Branwell did not take time out of her busy day to give me my due, unfortunately,” Bane laughed, and Alec didn’t smile. 

Something about the warlock’s laugh made him feel almost weak, made his heart skip a beat in an uncomfortable way. He was not in control around the warlock and he hated it. He needed to get back to control. 

The warlock seemed to be uncomfortable with Alec’s silence, as he cleared his throat and looked up at him. “I thought I'd see how you were doing.”

Alec took a deep breath. “I’m good. I meant to thank you for your advice. The whole "follow your heart" thing.”

It had allowed him to take control back. He had a hand over the Institute, and over his family’s legacy. He had control over the Clave’s vision of his family, of him and his parabatai now. Arresting and dealing with Meliorn so swiftly, in perfect synch with Lydia, would add to his newfound credibility. 

By following his heart, by  _ fixing  _ his parents’ problem, he was now getting back to where he was supposed to be. Jace would fall in line quickly, when he realized the rules were there to stay. His brother was just annoyed that he would have to follow the rules from now on. Izzy was Alec’s parabatai. She would realize it was all for the better. She would realize he was doing this for the greater good. 

“You’re welcome, but it’s nothing really, just words.” Magnus said, and there was something… coy, again, with the way he talked. A light blush adorned his cheek. Or maybe it was his makeup. It was rather… flamboyant today. More so than Lydia’s. It suited him. 

Alec bit his lip. “I'm getting married.”

Surprise read all over the warlock’s face. “Whoa! That's a tad sudden, isn't it?”

It was, Alec guessed. Usually, people went through a phase of courtship before proposing. 

“I mean, we should at least go to dinner first.” The man continued and Alec paused. Magnus was close. Too close to him. He could see every spark of glitter in the man’s eyeliner. He could see everything in his beautiful, beautiful brown eyes. 

Wait. Dinner? “No, Magnus, family is everything to me.”

The warlock was mistaken. It seemed that he was under the impression Alec wanted to marry  _ him.  _ Ludicrous. Alec could never marry someone like him. He was a man. And a Downworlder. That was never going to happen. And the fact Magnus Bane had thought he was talking about him...

It hurt. Fuck, it hurt. Magnus Bane’s eyes, right now, staring right into his, with a barely disguised hope for something, hurt like fucking shit, because it meant Alec  _ could _ have had him. If only the rest of the Shadowhunter world allowed him to. If only he allowed himself to. 

“You have to know that…” Alec added, whispering, almost. Please, Magnus, don’t make this harder than it has to be. 

“I get it. You're part of a "Don't ask, don't tell" culture. I'm fine with it. You're a traditional guy.”

“Yeah, I am,” Alec licked his lips.  _ Magnus was fine with it. Fine with Alec being closeted.  _ If he hadn’t been doing this for Izzy, Jace, Max and his future family, Alec wouldn’t have hesitated. He would have said fuck it. The hope in the man’s eyes was killing him. He couldn’t. He had a role to play. “That's why I proposed to Lydia.”

Lydia Branwell. The ever elusive new Head of the New York Institute. Alexander’s… future wife. Magnus didn’t know how to react to that. He didn’t know how to react to the wave of pain that took over him. 

He’d dared to hope. He’d dared to believe that maybe, Alexander Lightwood would choose himself, would choose  _ Magnus _ . But of course, he wasn’t going to. Magnus suddenly hated himself for allowing himself to be hurt right now. 

He had opened his heart. Not entirely his heart, more so his legs, but… Lust had only been his excuse for so long. What he felt towards the Shadowhunter, was more than just the desire to get him to his bed. It was the desire to make him feel the love he deserved to feel.

Now he was going to marry a woman. A Shadowhunter woman, a woman who would never understand, a woman he would never love. Magnus… didn’t exactly know how to feel. There was pain. Nausea. Anger? 

“That's… interesting.”

“It makes sense. It's a solid partnership. For both of us.”

Magnus would have laughed at the man’s attempt to convince him, to convince the both of them, if the occasion wasn’t so dreadful. They were talking about Alexander marrying for…  _ politics. _

“Solid partnership,” Magnus repeated, the words tasting like bile in his mouth. “That's hot!” Marriage was supposed to be born out of passion. Out of love. Not out of… politics. It was the 21st century, godfuckingdamnit. They were more advanced than that, right? “Well, okay, then. Congratulations. Marriage is a wonderful institution.”

He couldn’t even look at the man in the eyes. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t bring himself to look at him and tell him that. The words were like poison to him. They were violent, and they were wrong, and he shouldn’t be saying them, to Alec. He shouldn’t be saying them at all. 

Marriage was supposed to be real. It was supposed to be felt to the bone. It was supposed to be the fire of a hearth, it was supposed to be a flickering, but warm and everlasting fire in the center of a home. Not… electrical neon light, white and glaring, over the desk of the Head of Institute. 

But what did Magnus know? He’d never been married. He’d never even been proposed to. He was a man that you never married, that you never built a home with, because he was a man that was made of the very essence of time fleeing. A man destined to loneliness for eternity. A man who did not have someone to relay him when taking care of the fire of his home. If he fell asleep, no one was there to keep the fire going. 

“Not that I would know.”

He should have known better than to play this… fantasy. Than to pretend a Shadowhunter would want to take care of his fire, even for one night only. 

“Goodbye, Alexander.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 10 - Rise Up Part 2
> 
> Sorry for all the angst.... or am I?
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	10. Rise Up - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> This is Rise Up, Part 2, and it's full of goodbyes and betrayals and so much pain. 
> 
> Yesterday I finished writing season 1, and let's just say I'm full of emotion still! Thank you everyone who's currently with me on this journey!
> 
> Enjoy!

The last time Simon had really spent time in the Hotel DuMort was as a human. Yes, there had been that small moment, right before Camille had killed him, but… right now, it had been the first time he’d been there since Changing. 

Everything was different. He could feel the blood permeating the air. The only way he could really describe it was by comparing it to the way the air smelled when his mom had been cooking all day for a holiday. The air smelled enticing, delicious, and Simon just… didn’t know how to deal with it. Or maybe it was Clary’s blood that was smelling this way. 

The lighting felt different too. In a way, it was replicating sunlight, and it made sense. Vampires couldn’t go out in the sun, and with the current technology, at least they could feel something akin to the sun’s warmth on their face. 

What had been so strange and unusual about this place was falling in synch with his body. The atmosphere, the light, the smell, everything. Simon hated it. 

He licked his lips. Clary was quiet behind him, but her heart was beating, beating so fast. He heard it, and he heard the blood passing through her veins, and a part of him, that was constantly a little stronger than the second before, was telling him to grab her and bite her.

“How long has it been?” 

“What do you mean?” Clary replied. 

“How long has it been since I came back?” 

She reached for her phone, the shuffling of her fingers against the fabric of her bag was louder than ever, in the silence of the room. 

“It’s been… almost 2 days?” 

Fuck. 2 days. It felt like forever. He hadn’t realized how time had passed, he hadn’t realized that it had been this long either Time was stretching and distorting. He wasn’t used to the new rhythm vampirism imposed on him. 

Everything was different now. Clary… it wasn’t Clary. It was her blood, it was her veins, her heart, and fuck he wanted to drink her blood. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. She moved, she got closer, and he stepped back immediately. She smelled so good. She smelled delicious. 

“Stay back. You do not understand how this is. I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell the blood in your veins. And I want it.”

Maybe he should have followed Raphael to the DuMort after Changing. Maybe he wouldn’t be this starving then, even with the blood he’d gotten when arriving here earlier. 

“Simon, I would not blame you if you drank from me.”  

Simon shook his head, and turned to her, staring at her. “Really? I can smell the fear from here, Clary.”

She took another step towards him and he snapped. “Stay the fuck away!”

“I told you I was okay with you biting me!”

“This isn’t about what you’re okay with!” he shouted in reply. “This isn’t about you! This is about what  _ I  _ want, can you let me have at least THIS choice?” 

Clary opened wide eyes. “This isn’t my fault!”

“Then whose it is? Tell me, who brought me back? Who forced me into this life? I’m  _ craving blood _ , Clary!” Simon shouted. He was so angry. She was acting as if she wasn’t responsible for this, for all of this. 

“Maybe what I did was wrong and selfish, but my heart was breaking,” she said. Simon felt anger rise, and the more she spoke, the worse it got, and he almost wanted to tear her apart now, make her stop, make her stop with her excuses, and her whining, and her delicious, delicious blood. “I thought I was strong. I thought I was a real Shadowhunter. Simon, when it comes to you, I am still just Clary Fray. And you are still my best friend. I would rather you tear me apart than watch you die again, starving and angry…”

“Raphael!” Simon yelled, grabbing at the metal door. He needed more blood. He needed more blood, or he would go insane and bite her. He could barely feel any love for her right now, stuck between anger and hunger, every brand-new primal instinct just screaming at him to hunt, and kill.

The older vampire delivered some blood to him, and he gulped it down, not even caring what Clary could be thinking or feeling. This was him now. She’d made this choice for him, she had to live with it now. 

“Call me if you need more,” Raphael said. “You see, us vampires look after one another. We take care of our family.” 

“Simon already has a family,” Clary interjected. Simon’s love for her was surfacing again, but he rolled his eyes. What family did he have left? He couldn’t be around his mother or sister without wanting to bite them, and he couldn’t see them during the day. Clary had made him into a monster, and acted as if she’d… blessed him, even if her eyes showed fear and disgust. 

“Had a family. That's all gonna change now,” Raphael replied to Clary, and Simon was surprised, briefly, with how much he understood him. “You're a Shadowhunter he's a vamp. You two will never be equals. You'll have to learn that for yourself.”

That was… true. He had heard Shadowhunters talk about vampires before, and it was never pretty, or gentle. And he knew that soon enough, if not already, Clary would look at him the way she’d looked at Raphael and Camille, and other vampires when she’d rescued him from them, weeks ago. 

Raphael left, and Simon sat in silence, with the rest of the blood the vampire had given him. Clary was silent by his side. He wasn’t obsessed with her heartbeat anymore. 

“I never wanted any part of any of this,” Simon whispered. “The whole... Shadow World.” That was what they called it. Shadow World. World of Shadows and monsters, and now he was a part of it. 

“Neither did I.”

Simon rolled his eyes at that. Come on. Really? It was insane how little patience he had for the sob story of the girl, chosen to be somehow the key to defeat the bad guy in the war. The feeling reminded him of what he usually felt when confronted with goyische bullshit, except it was heightened. “At least you're a superior being. I'm a Downworlder.”

“Simon, what if I brought you back because I wanted us both to be different? I mean, suddenly I was this new person, and you were still living in our old world. Maybe I just couldn't fight this deep need for... For us to be together.”

“I love you, Clary, but stop trying to make me feel better with bullshit excuses,” Simon replied, and she fell silent again. He finished the glass of blood and put it down. He turned to look at her.

She was staring at her hands, looking almost small. For a brief second, he felt bad for snapping at her. 

“Look, I understand if you hate me now.” Her voice was small, afraid. The way it usually was when she knew she’d crossed a line. 

Simon sighed. She was his best friend. “Be angry with you? Yeah. Hate you? Never.”

At least he hoped. There was no telling what was going to happen to them now. They were on different sides, no matter what Clary or him tried to tell themselves. Downworlders seemed to despise Shadowhunters. And maybe they were right to do so. Maybe… maybe Shadowhunters were wrong in the way they interacted with the Downworld. 

 

\---------------

 

Magnus felt breathless. He knew where the feeling came from, and he almost welcomed it like the old friend he knew it was. Disappointment, and a hint of heartbreak, heartbreak he’d done everything to avoid for so long…

He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of his apothecary, against the jam of the door-less doorway. He had work to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, to read those parchments and work, not right now. Work had always been a refuge from the dreadful pits of heartbreak. Work came after alcohol, when the sadness subsided, and all that was left was a pain he could distract himself from for a while. 

He couldn’t distract himself from this one, though. He didn’t understand it. Magnus shouldn’t be in pain right now. There was nothing that had happened out of the ordinary. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a crush on a Shadowhunter. 

He guessed that, usually, said Shadowhunter didn’t give him even the slightest bit of hope before rejecting him. Magnus didn’t like that he felt so… paralyzed by the rejection. It wasn’t even love, Gods only knew that he was unable to ever feel love for one of these nephilim, but… He wasn’t in love, or even enamoured, what he’d wanted was… 

He didn’t know. He had no idea what he’d desired from this man, this tall man with the sullen eyes, eyes that looked too old, and too dead when he wasn’t looking at Magnus. Maybe that was what Magnus had wanted. Maybe he’d hoped he could take the spark of life that was so rarely in those eyes, and grow it until Alexander Lightwood was alive again. 

It wasn’t his place to do that. It was the role of another Shadowhunter, someone from Alexander’s own kind, own family, not Magnus’, not a random warlock’s job. A part of Magnus wanted to believe that it wasn’t random and that it really was where he belonged, fixing that Shadowhunter man, but it was stupid. You didn’t fix dead eyes with sex. The only things that could fix dead eyes were self-love and self-tolerance, and it wasn’t anyone’s job, but Alexander’s.

Magnus took off the jacket he’d been wearing, 18th-century style, petrol blue and black, and sent it back to his closet with a bit of magic. His job was done for today. He didn’t want to go back to the Institute, and he didn’t want to have anything to do with these people for at least a couple of decades. 

Clary Fairchild could deal with her own problems, and Alexander Lightwood was getting married, and soon enough would have a couple of children and would be too busy trying to keep his marriage together. 

Magnus walked to his kitchen, and put the kettle on the stove, reaching for the box of jasmine tea on the upper shelf, and a teacup on the lower shelf. He turned to the teapot, and prepped it, filling it with hot water to warm the cast iron. 

Time to get back to his life and stop running after Shadowhunters where there was no business for him to work. 

 

\---------------

 

The cells were big and the light was white and glaring. Meliorn hadn’t been in a Shadowhunter cell for a long time, and this stay wasn’t the worst he’d ever had. The outcome though… he wouldn’t be lying if the idea of the Silent Brothers, the City of Bones and its cells, and its mental torture, did not strike fear inside of him.

Every member of the Shadow Kinds had heard, one way or another, about the City of Bones. It was the temple to nephilim greatness, the court, prison, and execution chamber of their justice system. It was where Shadow people who were caught went to die. 

He spent a whole day in this Institute cell, waiting, until the door opened on two nephilim guards and Alec Lightwood. 

“The transport unit has arrived, Meliorn,” the man said, voice devoid of any type of emotion. This was the famed brother of Isabelle. The man she would die for in a heartbeat. Strangely, Meliorn would have imagined him to be more… sympathetic to the Shadow Kinds’ cause. 

He was cuffed again, with adamas cuff that would not be broken by magic of any kind, and led outside, through the corridors, upstairs, and into the war room again, where Lydia Branwell and the Clave guards were waiting. 

The men who lead him stopped at Lightwood’s order, as he walked towards the blonde woman, and started talking to her, in an obvious tone of confidence. He seemed to have forgotten that seelies had better ears than Shadowhunters, and if the guards couldn’t hear the questions Lightwood was asking, Meliorn could. 

“Are you sure about this?” 

Maybe he was a little more sympathetic. 

“Do you think I'd be sending Meliorn to the Silent Brothers if I thought there was another way?” Branwell replied, and Meliorn almost scoffed. Of course, she would. He was a ‘Downworlder’. He didn’t deserve to have his word have any kind of weight.

“You heard about my fiance how he died,” the woman continued. Meliorn rolled his eyes. Of course, the woman had a sob story that justified torturing him. 

“Yeah, it was a demon attack in Rio. They never released the details.”

“We'd gotten intel about a demon threat at Carnival. The demons were reportedly at this club in the favela. But we had no idea how many there were. We got word of a warlock on their payroll, so we brought him in. My team wanted to make him talk. Whatever it took, they were willing to do, but I wouldn't allow it. I just couldn't stand by and watch the torture.”

Poor Shadowhunter. She’d been a decent person for once and it had come back to bite her in the ass. Meliorn didn’t even know who she was supposed to be convincing. There was no way Alec Lightwood was going to fall for this fairytale, Alec knew better. 

“You made a judgment call.”

“It was the wrong call. We went in blind. And there had to have been 100 demons. The whole raid went sideways, and John... That's how he died. If only I just had the guts to do what needed to be done. I can't make that mistake again.”

What mistake? Not torturing the hell out of every single Downworlder she ever interrogated? Torture never even wielded any good result. Torture made people say what torturers wanted to hear. There was no doubt in Meliorn’s mind that, if anyone was kept alive long enough in the City of Bones, they would be telling them everything, no matter how untrue it was.

Torture was never going to lead to anything. Even less with Seelies. They did not think that Seelies couldn’t tell lies, and that, if they didn’t believe him now, they would never believe him. He would keep on saying the truth, and they would keep on hurting him, because he couldn’t say what they wanted to hear. Maybe he would manage to spin the lies until he believed it was the truth but… Torture would never lead to anything. 

“We rule with our heads, not with our hearts,” Branwell added, and Meliorn saw the way Lightwood was nodding. “Besides,” the woman continued, “interrogating him is better for everyone. The next name on the list is your sister’s.” 

Isabelle. With Branwell applying this kind of pressure, Lightwood was going to fold. Of course, he would agree with her. Of course. Isabelle was his parabatai, she was his sister, and Meliorn’s safety held nothing next to hers. 

“I'm in,” Alec Lightwood said, and Meliorn knew there was no hope anymore. Not when it was him, or her. “Whatever you need.”

 

\------------------------------------

 

Clary had balls. That was obvious. Even if she could be annoying, Jace had to recognize that fact. She’d been a Shadowhunter for what? Two weeks, and she was already fighting her way through everything, and somehow, without a scratch. 

She’d just spent the last day in a cage with a young vampire, everyone knew how dangerous that was. No matter how much Simon claimed to love her, there was nothing love could do against demon blood. And here Clary was, unscathed, ready to dive head first in an insane plan to break a seelie out of Clave hands. 

She had balls. He respected that. So he let her play the leader for once. He let her walk into the DuMort again, with Garroway at her side, and demand an audience with the clan leader, Raphael Santiago. 

Santiago stood in front of them, eyes going from the werewolf to the newly turned vampire, and focusing on Clary again. 

“We need a favor,” Clary started, and Jace winced. Favor meant that they would be indebted to the vampires. Maybe he  _ should  _ have taken the lead on the diplomatic discussion. “Your help, in breaking out a Seelie the Clave has unjustly sentenced to death.” 

“What makes you think that we would help you? Going against the Clave is more dangerous for us. And we have absolutely no business with the Seelies.” 

“We're offering an alliance with them.” 

Raphael laughed. “ No, you’re not. You have no authority to do so. You do not speak for the Seelie Queen. You do not even speak for the Shadowhunters. You’re nothing.” 

Clary took a deep breath. “I have the Cup. Is that enough for you?” 

“Not enough for you to speak for anyone but yourself.” Raphael still replied. “But enough that I could be interested in an alliance with you personally.”

Clary opened her mouth, but he stopped her, wincing. “Even then, Clary Fairchild, you hold no weight to the Clave. Between angering you, who happens to have the Cup in your possession, and angering the Clave… the choice is easily done. I believe we’re going to have to pass.” 

Yes. Jace should have lead this, because now there was nothing anymore. No vampires… it was going to be difficult without them. Very difficult. A transport unit to the City of Bones usually had four warriors. With someone like a seelie knight, there would be double that.

“How about an alliance with the werewolves?” 

Jace turned to look at Luke Garroway, who didn’t seem that happy to have spoken out. Raphael looked at the werewolf and nodded. 

“That’s more like it,” the vampire hummed. “An Alpha’s word is more truthful than Shadowhunter promises will ever be.” 

Luke nodded. “The Downworld has to stick together. There are differences between our kinds, but this is a matter of survival, for all of us. Valentine will not hesitate.” 

“You know that more than anyone,” Raphael replied. 

Clary and Jace exchanged a look. They were out of their depth here, in the talk between two leaders. 

“I trust these shadowhunters, Raphael,” Luke stated, taking a step forward and putting a hand on Clary’s shoulder. “I trust them to take care of the Downworld, to protect it. My generation failed, but I believe they can be better than us.” 

Raphael studied the scene silently for a few moments. When he finally spoke, it was towards Simon.

“I f our newest member pledges his loyalty to his new leader and joins our clan, we'll all stand beside you.”

Clary immediately stepped in between the two vampires. “No. Simon's not a pawn.”

Simon sighed so loudly that everyone heard it. “Clary, this is between Raphael and me,” he said before gently shoving her aside. “She’s right though. I’m not a pawn. This decision belongs to me, and me alone. I accept your deal.”

Raphael smiled and nodded at him, outstretching a hand towards him. Simon shook it. 

“Simon, what are you doing? You can’t do this!” 

“Whatever it takes to protect the Downworld. It's my world now. My family.”

Simon had taken a side. Jace had been expecting it, but it was obvious that Clary had not. It was a victory for them, because they now had enough numbers to take down the guard unit and get Meliorn to safety. But Clary had just lost Simon. 

She stayed silent, all the way to the entrance of the City of Bones. 

“This does not look like the City of Bones,” she mumbled, as everyone was splitting up. Simon, Izzy, and Raphael went on one side with the rest of the vampires, while Luke and the werewolves were putting together the rest of the trap. Clary and Jace remained on the lookout. 

“This is the Downworlders entrance,” Jace explained.

“The City of Bones has a service entrance. Perfect!” there was something sarcastic about her tone. Jace guessed she was afraid. Her next words confirmed his suspicion. “We're risking everything, aren't we? Going against the Clave, against the other Shadowhunters…” 

“Valentine's trying to destroy the world, Clary. We're trying to protect it.”

“But Meliorn… how does Meliorn fit into the whole Valentine grand-scheme anyway?”

“Meliorn… Meliorn doesn’t deserve to be a casualty of this war. No Downworlder deserves that,” Jace pointed out. 

Clary nodded and looked down. “I stole the Cup.” She muttered after a while. 

“I know. Izzy and I erased the security footage, when we were going through tapes this morning. No one will even know.” 

Jace had to admit… he was kinda proud of her on this one. Stealing the Cup from the locked safe? Glamouring a random stele to look like Alec’s, then using his stele to open the safe? Genius. 

On the other side of the path, Izzy was listening to Simon’s chatter. It seemed like the young man was not going to stop anytime soon. She didn’t actually mind. It kept her from thinking too much about everything, about what she was doing.

She was going to break Meliorn out. And worse than that, she was going to break him out, knowing fully well that it would all fall on the heads of Alec and Lydia. She wished Alec could just choose her side, and help her. There would still be consequences, but at least then he would be deserving of them. 

What was she even going to do after all of this? Run? Go hide somewhere in New York, to wait out the wrath of the Clave, while leaving Alec behind? She should have thought about this before. She should have made a plan with Jace so she, Clary and he had somewhere to go. 

She couldn’t imagine Alec’s heartbreak if she never came home. She couldn’t imagine, what it would be like for him, if, after they were done with this, Jace, Clary and her just… left. Empty seats the day of his wedding to Lydia, the pain it would cause him, the anger of their parents falling back on him. 

He would lose everything. Was she willing to do that to him? Maybe he deserved it, after all, for siding with the Clave in such a matter. He had to know it was wrong. He had to know. 

“So what are we thinking? A little encanto action?” 

“You know there's a rune for that,” she replied. She couldn’t really muster her tone to be much more alive.

“Of course there is.” the disappointment was obvious in Simon’s voice. 

“Just watch and learn from the master,” Raphael said, and Izzy stopped him from walking more. There was something in his voice that made her feel like he was going to tear apart everyone. 

“Remember, no one gets hurt,” she ordered and he nodded. 

“We’re not Shadowhunters. We know how to behave.” 

She rolled her eyes and stayed silent. Everything Shadowhunters did was deserved. Except when it came to things like what was going on today. 

They all got into position. Izzy got her phone and the grenade out. They had a small window, and barely any plan. It was all depending on the werewolves and vampires, and the surprise. 

She could feel actual anxiety rise up inside of her. It was bad. She never felt like this. She couldn’t believe how anxious she was, and how the idea of Meliorn being in the Gard made her feel. He didn’t deserve that, and whatever he got was her own fault. She knew he wasn’t lying. She knew him. 

Her phone beeped. ‘10 men total. 8 guards + Raj + Alec’, the text read. Her heart sank. He didn’t know. And now she was going to have to fight him. 

She took a deep breath and texted a ‘Let’s do this’, in reply. He had chosen his side, after all. She wasn’t responsible for him. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how her heart was breaking. 

For a second, she was tempted to open her side of the bond again. Make him feel the way she was feeling. Make him feel her fear, and anxiety, make him know what he was doing to her. Maybe then he would stop.    
  
Or maybe he wouldn’t. Lately, Izzy had discovered that maybe she didn’t know her parabatai that well. Alec had made decisions that… She’d just thought he would take care of himself. She’d thought, after seeing him with Magnus, that he would take care of himself. She was wrong, it seemed. 

“Secure the perimeter. Now.” Alec shouted, and the guards ran to their positions. 

He walked towards where Izzy, Raphael, and Simon were positioned. She took the grenade and activated the rune on it. 

“I'll take Meliorn inside. Just stay here. Nobody gets through!” Alec ordered. 

He walked away, alone, leaving the rest of the men behind him. Izzy sprung into action. She sent the grenade flying under the trunk, and amongst the guards. One of them was standing close, so she didn’t even have to walk on the other side. 

Her whip wrapped around the man’s legs, and he hit the floor. She pulled him towards her and punched him unconscious. It was Raj. For some reason, she wasn’t surprised. He always liked to follow orders. Lydia had probably chosen him to accompany Alec, unaware of Alec’s previous crush on him.

She swallowed and grabbed her phone. ‘Deal with Alec. Please’. 

‘Ok’, was Jace’s reply. He knew why she didn’t want to face him. Izzy took a deep breath, thanked Raphael and Simon, and quickly made her way to the back entrance of the DuMort, where Meliorn would be lead after he was out of Alec’s hands. 

Alec should have known there would be something. Izzy’s sudden disappearance, the sudden loss of connection from her side of the bond… he should have known. She was too enamoured with Meliorn, she was too close to him and to the Downworld. 

He dragged Meliorn up to the pillar, and drew the rune on it, revealing the entrance to the City of Bones. The seelie tensed next to him. For a second, Alec pitied him. He never wanted to be imprisoned in the City of Bones himself. He’d heard what it did to people’s minds. He’d seen the results. 

“Alec.” Clary’s voice resounded behind him before he had the time to walk to the door. Of course, she was in this. Of course, she was. Clary Morgenstern, daughter of a traitor, going against Clave orders. It made so much sense, Alec almost laughed at himself for not seeing it coming. 

He’d thought she’d be too busy with her vampire friend, but he guessed she had a bit of time for being a pain in his fucking ass. He sighed and turned back towards the door. Jace. Jace was standing there. His brother. 

“You told me you were taking Clary back to the Institute. You lied to me.” Alec accused.

So he really had no one. Izzy, Jace… his parents had lied to him and hurt him, and now were against his marriage to Lydia. Lydia was the only person he could trust in this goddamn world. It  _ hurt.  _

“I did what needed to be done,” Jace replied. 

No. Alec was the one who was doing what needed to be done. He was the one who was following orders. 

“Alec, the Clave has gone too far. You have to see that. Please, just let Meliorn go.”

Couldn’t she just shut up? Couldn’t she just leave him alone? She couldn’t understand. She had nothing riding on this, it wasn’t like she would ever succeed to bring her family name back to some… type of shine. Morgenstern. That name was forever going to mean traitors. Alec had a shot at changing the Lightwood name. No one seemed to understand that. 

Not Clary, who was a Morgenstern, not Jace, who obviously didn’t consider himself a Lightwood anyway, and not Izzy. Izzy, who was a Lightwood, who had changed to be more like a Lightwood, not less than a week ago, and was already breaking every promise of responsibility she’d made by going against the Law. 

“I have my orders,” Alec replied.

“You and your damn orders. Who cares about orders?” 

“See? That's how little you know about being a Shadowhunter. You couldn't possibly understand-” 

“It's you that doesn't understand, Alec.” Jace cut him in the middle of his sentence and Alec felt the pain again. Jace wasn’t on his side anymore. Jace wasn’t on the Lightwood side anymore. Jace didn’t understand what was best. It hurt, it hurt, and it made Alec so damn angry. Why the hell was Jace calling him brother, if he didn’t care about the Lightwood name?  

Alec sighed, and moved, trying to force his way past Jace. Jace tackled him to the ground. 

“Clary, Meliorn, go, now,” Jace shouted. 

Alec didn’t see it happen, but he knew she was gone, they were gone. He’d failed. 

 

\---------------------

 

Isabelle was standing alone when Meliorn was guided to her. The back entrance to the DuMort… Of course, it was. She was smart, as smart as she was beautiful. Meliorn couldn’t really tell her that he did miss her and that he would miss her after this. 

She shooed Clary Fairchild away, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to bring her closer. 

“Sweet Isabelle… What have you done?” Meliorn asked her, tenderly. 

Isabelle leaned against him, one hand reaching to caress his cheek. “What had to be done, Meliorn.” She replied, as tender and sweet as he was. “I couldn’t stand there and let you be taken to your death.” 

Meliorn smiled at her. “I will be truthful. I was not expecting you to.”

“You were expecting me to stand by my family, and let the Seelie die.” 

“Many would have done so.” Meliorn shrugged, and she smiled at him. 

“I know.” 

He leaned in to kiss her. If he had known, days ago, that their kiss would have maybe been his last, he would have been more careful. Now, with what he was thinking about doing… he needed to hold her, touch her, kiss her, and take the memory of her body against his. 

“Seelies cannot lie. Your interrogator was weak, but even if she was the best of Idris, my answer wouldn’t have been different.” Meliorn stated. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Isabelle replied. “It’s not like anyone would believe my word. Even if they never learn what I’ve done today, I will forever be the Shadowhunter who shouted too loudly at the Clave when her Seelie lover was interrogated and sentenced to the City of Bones.” 

“Then, Seelie-lover, wear that name like a badge of pride.” Meliorn whispered. “If more of your people enjoyed fucking us, maybe they wouldn’t be sentencing us to death left and right…” He teased. “The Seelies do not have an alliance with Valentine Morgenstern, at least not that I know of. I cannot say that the Queen tells me everything, I even believe she hides from me the information I have no business knowing, so that in case nephilim turn their wrath upon me, I have nothing to tell them.” 

“So you don’t know.” 

Meliorn smiled. “I do not. But I believe she has no alliance with the person who would see her entire people dead.” He winked at her. 

“Obviously,” she giggled and leaned in again to kiss him. He held her tighter against him, his hand slipping slightly lower. She smiled against his lips, a giggle still in her breath. 

He let go of her lips and started kissing down her neck slightly, and taking a deep breath. The Queen would likely kill him for what he was going to do. Isabelle smelled nice. Like her perfume, and a bit of sweat. He didn’t mind it at all. 

She pulled on his hair a little, to pull his head back up. 

“I underestimated you,” he whispered. 

“Is that a thank you?”

“In the Seelie world, it is.” 

They shared a look, and Meliorn knew she understood. She leaned in again and kissed his lips deeply. Meliorn sighed and kissed her back. They were still making out, when Clary and Jace walked up to them. 

“I hate to break up this reunion, Izzy, but we have to go.”

Izzy sighed and moved a step back, her hand letting go of his hair. 

“You're in good hands,” she whispered. Meliorn nodded. He knew what she had to do. He knew there was a storm coming her way, and she had to go deal with it. 

Izzy turned back to her brother and Clary. “I need to get back to the Institute, see what hell has broken loose. Try and talk some sense into Alec.” 

She couldn’t help but look back at Meliorn. “Take care of him.”

“We will.” Clary Fairchild promised. 

Isabelle kissed Meliorn again, and Meliorn closed his eyes, engraving the feeling into his memory, so he would always remember this. She didn’t know it was the last time they saw each other. Or maybe she did, and she had done the same for him.

He turned back to the Shadowhunters. Clary Fairchild was still watching Isabelle walk up. Interesting.

Meliorn took a deep breath. “I heard you went against orders to save me, Clary Fairchild. I must thank you for that. 

“It’s nothing,” the young woman blushed. 

“I have never had this many Shadowhunters fighting for me at the same time,” Meliorn pointed out. “It feels… invigorating.” he licked his lips and turned to Jace. “Thank you as well, Jace Wayland.” 

The man nodded in reply. “Listen, you need to get going. You’re a fugitive now.” 

“I know. But I have something else I need to do beforehand.” Meliorn explained. “The both of you have given up a lot for me tonight. You’ve gone against your orders and your family. I appreciate that. And I refuse to be in anyone’s debt.”

He pointed towards Clary’s necklace. “This is, I believe, a portal shard. I do not know much about where it comes from. But maybe it would be in your interest if you could find your way to it.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m offering you a gift, Clary Fairchild. Find the portal that’s missing a shard.” 

“Could it help me find my mother?” 

“Who knows?” Meliorn smiled enigmatically. “It might just do that.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 11 - This World Inverted Part 1
> 
> So much is happening, and I cannot wait for you to discover my version of the AU. Things are different. Really different, much more than you expect... and a new (but favorite) character is arriving!!
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	11. This World Inverted - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> This is This World Inverted, Part 1!
> 
> I've been looking forward to all of you reading my version of 1x10 ever since I started writing the episode, which was about 3/4 months ago. 
> 
> This version of Clary, Izzy, Alec, Simon and Magnus from TWI is quite different that what you may be expecting.... and also an early arrival from our dearest third leading lady...
> 
> Enjoy!

One second Clary was walking through the streets of Manhattan, and the next, fallen leaves were crunching under her feet. The transition had been entirely smooth, so different from the portals she was used to walking through. 

“Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore,” Clary said softly, as she followed Meliorn onto the small path. 

The air failed warm and soft, different from the New York air. Purer, maybe. It felt like summer air, but the kind of summer air that Clary felt when at the farm with Luke and her mom during summer break. Was it summer here? 

“Welcome to the Seelie Glade, Clary Fairchild,” Meliorn replied, voice as smooth as the air around them. “The remotest edges of it.”

The Seelie walked differently here than he had been back in New York. His steps were more graceful, it was like he was almost floating through the air. Somehow, Clary wouldn’t be surprised if he was. 

This time, this world felt like a fairytale. The Institute, the DuMort, it was all so dark, and shady, and full of death and shadows. The Seelie Glade was the forest where a princess got lost, only to be saved by her prince, her knight in shining armor. 

She liked it more than anything she’d seen before. The City of Bones seemed like the darkness of the Underworld, next to the golden light of the glade, and the almost perfumed air she was smelling. 

“How did we get here?” Clary asked curiously. 

Meliorn was about to reply but he was cut off by Jace. “We walked through a portal. There are entrances all through the mundane world.” 

“You just have to know where to look,” the Seelie finished, turning to look at her for a second. There was something playful about the man, something that was both inviting, and a bit frightening. Next to Camille’s predatory behavior, Magnus’ aloofness, and the way Raphael acted… Meliorn felt unreal. 

He truly felt like a creature out of a story, old and full of this… liking for toying with mortals. It wasn’t the same attitude as Camille. Camille sounded as if she would take you apart without blinking, just to see you scream and bleed. Meliorn sounded like he was somewhat interested in seeing how she fared. 

“Why did you lead us here?” She asked.

Meliorn shrugged. “I told you. Because of your necklace. It's a Portal shard.”

Jace huffed and rolled his eyes.“Tell us something we don't know.”

“I'm curious, Shadowhunter, who knows so much about Portals, did you never wonder why this Portal shard doesn't behave the way normal Portals do?” Meliorn raised an eyebrow. 

A part of Clary wanted to warn Jace that the tone of the Seelie was one of condescending wickedness. As if Meliorn had tricks under his sleeves that he would not hesitate to use against Jace if the man crossed one of the invisible lines he seemed to be toeing around.

“Normal Portals can only take you to places you've been,” Jace mumbled. “This one lets you see where a person is.” he crossed his arms. “I guess I never really thought about it.”

Meliorn’s smirk was smug as he looked back at the man for a second. “I see Isabelle is the smart one in the family.”

Clary couldn’t help her giggle at the words, and at the way Jace seemed to be  _ pouting  _ at the snide comment.

“Your Portal shard works the way it does because it’s a Seelie portal, not a warlock one.” Meliorn smiled at her, seemingly liking her more than he liked Jace. Clary guessed the two of them might have a history. After all, Meliorn seemed to be in contact with Shadowhunters more than other Seelies.

“Since when do Seelies have portals?” Jace asked, a hint of curiosity slipping through the grumble in his voice.

“Since Magnus Bane has given his conference on Portal creation, at the Great Conference of 1900. It was quite the fascinating talk. I happened to be in attendance.”

Jace fell silent at that. Clary sent him a look. Jace hadn’t known about the Seelie portals. How much did he actually know? How much did the Clave ignore about Seelies, and about magic? Jace always acted as if he knew better than anyone else about the Downworlder, and so did Alec and Izzy, and their mother, in the small amount of time Clary had spent with her. If they knew so much, how come Jace seemed to be surprised?

“Is this portal in the Glade?”

“Not exactly. I could track the energy signature of this specific Seelie portal in another dimension. I believe that, if you get there, you would be able to find your mother, were you to find the portal.”

Clary stopped dead in her tracks. “Another dimension? Do other dimensions even exist?”

Meliorn had a small laugh at that. “Do you really think I would be taking you here and telling you this if it was all just a joke?”

“I heard Seelies liked to play games with the truth.”

The stare he sent her was piercing and icy, and something inside of her shuddered at the very dangerousness of it.

“I see you’ve learned your Shadowhunter lessons well, Clary Fairchild.”

 

\-------------------

 

Izzy had spent the night out. She’d found a bar that was opened and gotten a lemonade, and now she was finally making her way back into the Institute. She dreaded what she was going to find there, but it didn’t change what she had done. She didn’t want to change what she had done anyway. 

She had done the right thing. No matter what they all believed, no matter what they said, and how they hid behind orders, she just couldn’t leave Meliorn to die. Maybe it was hypocritical of her - she’d hidden behind orders herself too many times -, and maybe it was only because it was Meliorn. It didn’t change that she had done it, and she didn’t regret it.

She saw Alec, talking to Edward, and almost pretended like she hadn’t seen him. Unfortunately, he had seen her. She didn’t dare to open her bond again. She didn’t dare to force open his side either. She didn’t want to know how he felt, because then, she might start regretting it.

“Where the hell have you been?” Alec asked, anger and frustration straining his voice.

They both knew where she’d been. Alec was just hoping for an answer she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, give him.

“Where I needed to be. Making the right choice.” Izzy replied, staring into his eyes, defying him.

Alec looked right back into hers. She could almost feel his anger and his worry. She wished he was by her side. She wished he wasn’t angry at her, she wished he understood why she’d done it. For once, maybe he could repeat what he’d done for Magnus, say fuck it, and disobey.

“I can't protect you if you don't tell me the truth.” Alec grabbed her arm as if he could take the truth away from her mouth with his own hands. They were in public. Izzy noticed Lydia and Raj talking together. 

“I don't need protecting, you know that better than anyone,” she replied. “Meliorn's alive. That's all that matters.” She tried to move away, walk past him, but he grabbed her again. 

“Iz, it’s not…. There are consequences. Consequences you’re not prepared to deal with, just…” Alec sighed, and let go of her, looking at her, and now there was something  _ pleading _ , in the way he talked to her next. “Is there any way that Raj could have seen anything incriminating?”

Izzy opened her mouth to speak but stopped. Lydia and Raj were talking. Maybe Raj had seen something, maybe she hadn’t been as swift with knowing him out as she thought she had been.

“I don’t know.” She whispered.

 

\------------------------

 

Meliorn stopped them in front of two strange trees, that looked like they were somehow connected at the top. Maybe it had once been a single tree that had split in two with time, or maybe it was something else entirely.

“These trees are where the alternate dimensions intersect the Seelie realm,” the Seelie explained, turning back to look at the two Shadowhunters he’d just brought to the holiest and protected part of the Seelie Realm.

“How is it possible that the Clave doesn't know about your dimensional doorways?” Jace Wayland asked, and Meliorn knew he would be punished by the Queen for this. Bringing Shadowhunters here, and letting them leave with the ability to tell their bosses? Meliorn was dead.

“They are our most guarded secret. We are their protectors. Only Seelies know of their existence.” He said  as he reached to gently brush his fingers against the trunk of one of the trees. He could feel the energy pulsing through them. It was a singular feeling he had only experienced once before.

This part of the Seelie Glade was not visited very often. There were some patrols, from time to time, but only when the dimensional doorways were officially being opened for someone.

“If the Seelie Queen finds out I've shared this with you, I could be executed.” Was all he added, and an awkward and heavy silence fell onto the group.

Meliorn turned to the trees and opened himself to the magic flowing through the glade. Seelies had a different kind of magic than warlocks. Warlocks had the magic of demons. Seelies possessed the ability to use all magic that nature had ever created, a perfect mix of the Shadowhunters’ angelic magic, and the warlocks’ demonic power.

Seelies were in a way purer than those strange hybrid species that were Shadowhunters, no matter how many times they claimed that their demonic parentage made them lower. Their connection to the very essence of magic ran deeper. They were beings of energy, energy made flesh. Shadowhunters were only modified humans. In a sense, Shadowhunters were quite alike vampires or werewolves, except their disease came from angels, instead of demons.

“This will establish a connection to the other dimension,” Meliorn explained. He guessed the mortals would prefer a little bit of an explanation of what was currently happening. They couldn’t feel the other dimension caressing their fingertips the way Meliorn did.

What a sad existence it was, to be such a small creature as a Shadowhunter. Mortal, forced to use tools to access whatever little magic was in their DNA… Unable to feel what it was like to be one with nature, one with energy. Meliorn would never want to be a Shadowhunter. If he had to be anything else… he would want to be a warlock.

“What's it like? The other dimension,” Clary Fairchild asked. There was apprehension in her voice. Meliorn understood. She was embarking on a journey too big for her mortal mind to comprehend and not fear. “Is it like this one?”

“It is but it isn't.”

“Could you be more vague?” Jace Wayland asked. This one annoyed him. The Fairchild girl was cute enough, but this was just… rubbed Meliorn the wrong way.

“It is an alternate timeline, in a sense,” he started explaining, guessing the two of them would want him to explain more in details. “There, Shadowhunters and demons no longer exist.”

There was an indignant ‘What?’ from Jace Wayland and Meliorn almost chuckled. He kept his focus on the portal that was forming under his hands.

“And Shadow Kinds have conformed to the mundane way of life to avoid detection.” Meliorn continued.

“What happened to the Shadowhunters?” Of course, that was what they wanted to know. Not if warlocks or seelies still existed. Not if there was anyone old enough still alive to remember that Shadowhunters existed.

“Their services were no longer required, because they won the war against the demons, centuries ago,” Meliorn shrugged. All Seelies studied the dimensions and the differences between them. “Once they sealed the rifts between their worlds….” He stopped talking for a moment, feeling the energy leave his body and gather into the portal. The doorway was materializing in front of them. “their culture faded away.”

“So what? Do I just walk through it and… go get the portal?” Clary Fairchild asked.

“Yes, and no. Two bodies cannot harbor the same soul, no matter if this soul comes from another dimension or not. Once you arrive in the alternate dimension, you will assume the body of the Clary in that world. You will think and feel just like her. She will not remember what you do in her body, nor will you remember when she takes control of her own self again.”

“But I'll still know I'm me, right? I'll know I have to find the Portal?”

Meliorn sighed. “Your alternate self could consume you if you let it. Take control, and force you to fade away. The Clary Fairchild standing in front of me would cease to exist, in all dimensions.”

The young woman gasped behind him. Meliorn almost wanted to reassure her, but the doorway demanded more focus and energy from him. Usually, doorways were opened with several seelies working together. Opening this alone was more draining than he had anticipated.

“Is there a way to not let it?” Jace Wayland asked, and he sounded…. Worried. That was sweet. Meliorn was surprised by how sweet.

“Focus on the differences between that world and ours. Find something or someone to keep you grounded to this one.”

“Easy enough,” Clary whispered, and Meliorn could almost feel that she was looking at the man next to her.

“It will be more difficult than you think. You will not have Jace Wayland to hold onto. He’s not coming with you. You’re going in alone, Clary Fairchild, my debt does not include him.” Meliorn reminded. “If you don't hurry, you could cease to be this world's Clary Fairchild.”

“And be stuck in that world forever.”

 

\--------------------------

 

Her body felt different. That was the first thing that crossed Clary’s mind when she entered the alternate dimension. She licked her lips and tasted lip gloss. Light was streaming through the window. It was morning. It had been nightfall in the Seelie Glade when she’d stepped through the doorway. 

She was back in the loft. Her loft. Her home. She hadn’t seen it in… weeks. Clary looked around. It was different. Something felt wrong. She had no idea what exactly but something was wrong.

There was a picture on the nearby table. Clary glanced at it quickly. She saw herself, her mom, and two men she didn’t really recognize and didn’t have time to recognize. Someone came out from behind her, and she heard a cup hit against a plate.

She turned around. A man was standing there. A man she recognized immediately. Valentine. Clary grabbed the first knife she could find, a regular dining knife, not even that sharp or pointy, and held it up.

“Where’s my mother?” She shouted.

The man raised an eyebrow at her, looking confused. He didn’t look scared, there was no look of… insanity on his face. Clary didn’t know what to think. This was Valentine, and this was… not him? He acted different, looking different, there was a… softness in his eyes. Laughter.

Valentine started laughing, holding his hands up. “Whoa,” he chuckled. “Is this from one of your cosplay skits?”

Cosplay? She did cosplay in this universe. Damn.

“Uh, honey? Come in here. You gotta see this,” Valentine called out, and there were footsteps coming from the other room. Who was he calling? Why was he so different? Clary hadn’t had a lot of contact with Valentine, but the little she’d seen… there had been this look in his eyes. A look that was completely gone. “No, seriously, you have to let me come with you, just once, okay? I want to see what you do at these things, all right?”

Jocelyn came into the room, rolling her eyes. “Val, you're not allowed to do cosplay. You'd stick out like a sore thumb.”

Clary didn’t know what was happening, but at least she was grateful for this. For her mom. She ran straight into her arms, the knife clattering back on the table. She wrapped her arms around her mother and held her tight. Tighter than she’d ever held her.

“Mom.” She couldn’t believe this. She couldn’t believe her mom was here and was okay, and that she could hold her like this, and her mom could hold her back. This world… in this world, everything was okay. They were a normal family.

“Wow,” her mom chuckled, playing with her hair a little. “Wow, if you miss us this much, you should really leave the dorm room more often.”

“Right,” Clary whispered, and let go of her. Too soon. But right. She was in college. She was… she was normal, her parents were normal. Valentine was her dad. “Sorry.”

Jocelyn let go of her and walked over to the table, taking a seat there. Clary looked around. She was starting to notice the little differences. She walked to the pictures, the pictures of the happy family, her happy family.

Her mother… her father… a young man that looked a little older than her. His arm was wrapped around her. And herself… She looked different. She dressed differently.

Clary looked down at her outfit. High-waisted mom jeans held up by a chunky leather belt, cuffed at the bottom with black combat boots, a black crop top, looking more like a longer bralette than anything, under a closed grey flannel shirt that had thin burgundy and black lines.

She reached for her hair, seeing that the picture in front of her had her right side shaved close to the scalp. Indeed it was still that way. Her fingers found several earrings on her right ear as well. Piercings. Piercings, undercut, and these clothes. She was different.

She turned around, and her eyes stopped on the paintings. They were beautiful, all full of sunset colors, and in the bottom left corner, they were signed ‘Jocelyn Morgenstern’. Clary swallowed. A happy family.

“Earth to Clarissa,” she heard behind her and turned around. Her mother and father were smiling at her. Jocelyn continued. “In honor of your father's Mad Hatter party tonight. And in honor of you being the only of our children to enjoy spending time with your nerdy parents…” she raised the small teacup she was holding.

Valentine laughed, and sat down, starting to put things into what Clary guessed was her plate. “Your mom made waffles for you,” he explained. “You know, the best thing about you and your brother coming home from college is the fact that we get to eat like kings.”

Jocelyn laughed and gently punched her husband’s arm. Clary sat down, reaching for the knife again. She felt like he wouldn’t attack her, but… everything was so strange. She noticed for the first time the line in black ink on her inner arm. A tattoo?

Her dad turned to her. “Come on, kiddo, you gotta eat somethin', right?”

Clary hummed in reply and started eating. It was delicious. Her mom had never made waffles. I mean… her real mom. This one wasn’t her real mom. Even if she felt so real. She acted almost like the one that she’d lost.

Valentine cleared his throat and leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms. “So, Clarissa when do I get to meet this new girl in your life, hmm?”

“Val!” Jocelyn sighed. “We’ve talked about this!”

“What? I have to give my stamp of approval, right?” Valentine shrugged, and Clary chuckled. He sounded… protective. Like she imagined her dad would be when she brought home girls. She’d thought Luke would be that for her but… maybe they didn’t know Luke in this dimension.

She was focusing back on the waffles, where her mom pointed her attention to the tv, to watch a cringey commercial. Clary raised an eyebrow and started watching. She recognized the first man. Hodge Starkweather, the Weapons Master, and training master of the Institute. So their parents didn’t know them?

“You know what’s even funnier?” Jocelyn pointed out. “I went to school with these two. Hodge and Luke. The world is so small.” She laughed.

There was Luke. So… Luke was… not a detective, and was a bookstore owner now. And him and her mom were not together. Luke wasn’t her dad, Valentine was. Clary licked her lips. So many changes.

“I'm Magnus Bane,” the man on the tv said. He was so familiar, but Clary couldn’t really pinpoint where she’d seen him. “Come in today for a tarot card and psychic reading. I'll help you find your way.” The man looked so uncomfortable. It was indeed hilarious.

Clary was happy to be home. She’d missed the waffles, and she’d even missed the way her dad could just be a little too protective sometimes. And she’d missed Izzy. And the rest of the squad. She was so looking forward to the-

A spoon fell down loudly onto the floor. Clary felt like she had taken a nap for a second. The Portal. She needed to find the portal. “I have to go.”

She stood up suddenly, almost sending the chair on the floor. Her parents were looking at her with wide confused eyes, and she mumbled an excuse before running off. Her phone was buzzing in her pocket.

It was a text from Simon. Well. The latest in a long string of texts from Simon. ‘Got someone to introduce you to. Java Jones Mobile.’

Clary grabbed her purse and prayed that the JJMobile was still in the same spot in this dimension. Fortunately, the loft was still at the same address, and everything else was the same. Her metro card had money on it, and the stations were still called the same.

 

\----------------------

 

Alec stared at the energy map, but it seemed like his brain refused to process the information. Or rather, the lack thereof. Clary and Jace had obviously activated their blocking rune because there was no sign of their runes on the map. 

Why were they doing this to him? He’d done everything for them, for Clary, gone against the rules, so much so that the Clave had needed to send an envoy. Alec had hidden their missions, taken the heat for their errors. And they were betraying him, going against orders and against the Law and blamed  _ him _ for it.

He had proposed to Lydia, for them! To help them, to help the family! And now they were angry at him and going against him, and it just boggled his mind how he was supposed to be loyal to them.

He brought a hand to his face to rub his eyes for a second. Izzy was only a couple of feet away, but he couldn’t really look at her. He didn’t understand her, he didn’t understand why she would do this to him. She was his parabatai. She was supposed to be on his side.

Now, they just had to pray to the Angel that no one had realized she was there, that no one was going to find her out. Because then… then it would be a mess that even Alec couldn’t fix. No sacrifice of his happiness could fix what Izzy had done. A part of Alec hoped she realized the situation they were in now, because of her.

He sighed, and changed the settings on the energy search, trying to find Clary and Jace’s steles and seraph blades. Maybe then it would give a result. He was starting to analyze what was going on on the map, when Lydia walked up to him, followed by Raj.

“I'm sorry,” she said, and alarms rang in Alec’s mind immediately.

“For what?” he asked, and all she did was walk past him. 

Raj came to stand next to Izzy, and Alec’s heart stopped beating. Somehow, the first thing that crossed his mind was wondering what he had seen in Raj to have a crush on him. Now, he stood next to his sister, and Alec knew what words were going to come out of Lydia’s mouth before she said them.

“Isabelle Lightwood, by order of the Clave, you are under arrest for high treason.”

“What? On what grounds?” Alec immediately contradicted, standing next to his fiancée and trying to get her to look at him. High treason… high treason meant exile. He couldn’t lose Izzy.

Lydia refused to look at him. “Only a handful of people knew about the Meliorn op.”

“And I seem to remember someone using a whip, to take me out,” Raj added.

Fuck. Fuck. Of course, Izzy had used her whip. With that kind of evidence… of course, there were plenty of Shadowhunters who knew how to use a whip, and it could have very well been used to frame her, but… out of those who knew about Meliorn being sent to the City of Bones, Izzy was the only one known to use a whip.

Izzy took a deep breath. “You know what, Lydia? You're no better than Valentine,” she said, and Alec almost yelled at her to shut the fuck up. It was only making things worse. When a Shadowhunter was arresting you, you did  _ not  _ insult them by using the name of the Clave’s greatest enemy. Izzy had no idea the trouble she was getting into. Alec could only protect her so much. “But at least he had the guts to tell Downworlders to their faces he wanted them all dead. You hide behind the Law.”

“I don't hide behind it, Isabelle. I simply follow it. Because it guards against one very important thing. Shadowhunters fighting other Shadowhunters,” Lydia said. Alec knew she was right. Fuck, he even agreed with her on the nature of the Law, and on why she was doing this but… this was Izzy. 

“So what do you call what you’re doing to me, uh?” Izzy replied, a cocky smile on her face. Alec couldn’t stand this.

“If she is convicted, she'll be stripped of her runes and banished,” he said, trying to finally get Lydia to look at him. Lydia couldn’t understand. She didn’t have a parabatai. Hell, she didn’t even have siblings. “I can't let that -”

“Don't,” Izzy stopped him, as Raj was taking her stele away, and taking her to a holding cell. “It's not your fight.”

Except it was. It was his fight. This was Izzy. This was his parabatai, his sister. If she was exiled, Alec was going to lose his bond, he was going to lose the part of her soul that constantly was with him. He couldn’t let that happen, both for himself and for her.

He needed to do something, find a way. Izzy could not be exiled.

 

\------------------------

 

Clary walked up to the corner of grass where some of the coffee shops had elected to put their coffee trucks. She looked around for Simon. It was day time. Was Simon not a vampire in this universe? 

“Hey,” came Simon’s voice from behind her and she turned around. Apparently not a vampire, or he would be ashes on the ground right now. “Where have you been? We've been texting you for, like, 20 minutes.”

Clary looked at her phone. Yes. There were a lot of other messages. Man, her head was so foggy, and she didn’t want to read all those messages, in case they pulled her into this world and made her other self take over. “Sorry, I was with the parents.” She explained.

“That explained the look in your eyes,” Simon laughed.

“What look?”

“Caffeine deprivation,” he grabbed her hand. “Come on, Tweek.” He pulled her towards the JJMobile, seeming to be intent in getting her coffee.

“Simon, I do not have time for coffee today,” she tried to refuse. 

“No, no, no. I know that look in your eye. And when you get that look, I either have to caffeinate you immediately or accept full responsibility for you killing someone.” Simon chuckled. He had brought her to a table where two other people were sitting.

Clary blinked, surprised by who they were. Alec and Izzy. They looked different too. Simon was pretty much the same, but they… Izzy looked a bit like a woman version of Simon, even if her eyeliner was still so perfectly sharp. Izzy put down her phone, and came to Clary’s side of the table, wrapping her arms around her.

“Hey baby,” the woman grinned and Clary’s jaw almost hit the floor. Her hands settled on Izzy’s hips.

“Hey, Izzy…” she replied, a bit confused. She was dating Izzy in this universe? Not that she minded, but… damn.

The woman smiled and cupped Clary’s cheek. “Not even a good morning kiss?” She teased, before leaning in. Clary didn’t refuse. At all. She leaned in as well, and kissed Izzy, surprised by how the other woman was pulling her closer. How long had they been dating?

“Is that new?”

Izzy sighed and leaned back, glaring at her brother. Clary chuckled. She looked at what Alec was pointing out. The Portal shard. It had followed them here, which was perfect.

“Yes, I got it a couple of days ago.”

“Oh, it goes with your dress? Because you're getting ready at my place tonight, right?” Izzy smiled, squeezing Clary’s hand.

“Ready for what?” She asked curiously. Her parents had mentioned a party, but she kinda doubted that her friends would come with her, right? She sat down next to Izzy and started playing with the rings on her girlfriend’s finger. It was like this body had muscle memory.

Izzy cleared her throat and sent her elbow into Clary’s side, warning her of something, but it was too late.

“That is not even a little bit funny,” Alec said, staring right at her. “I have poured my heart and soul into planning this anniversary party for the Institute,” oh so…. Alec had planned this? And they were all invited? “And the theme is amazing.”

“Sorry, sorry!” She held her free hand up in surrender.

“But, seriously, what is with your dad and the Mad Hatter?” Alec looked at her questioningly.

“I work for the guy, and believe me, Mad Hatter really suits him,” Izzy interjected. “Visionaries are quirky crazy. You don't get 4D Internet tech thinking inside the box.”

Izzy was working for Valentine? And they had a tech company? Clary was about to ask more questions when Simon arrived with a woman in tow.

“So, I wanted all of you to be here, so I could introduce you to someone.” Simon started, looking quite nervous. The woman by her side smiled, looking at him with a fond look. “Also, of course so we could go through logistics again for tonight,” he started rambling, sending Alec a look. “We're setting up at 6:00, right?”

Alec nodded at him, and Simon then turned to Clary. “I need your help tonight loading. This gig could be huge for me.”

The woman next to him cleared her throat, and it seemed to bring Simon back to the original point of the conversation. He nodded. “Right, right, sorry.” He sent the woman an apologetic look.

She was slightly shorter than him, black, with wonderful coily hair, and a fond sarcastic smile. “I’m Maia.” She introduced herself. “Simon’s girlfriend.”

“Oh my God, really?” Izzy grinned, and stood up, going to hug Maia tightly. “Welcome to the family!”

Clary felt Simon’s eyes on her and met them. He was looking at her with a hopeful, raised eyebrow, and she couldn’t help but smile. He was waiting for her approval. She quickly looked at the woman - Maia - again. She looked a bit older than them, but not in a bad way. There was something very cool about her, something… good.

The scar on her neck was a tiny bit weird, but she looked at Simon with fondness, and Simon looked a bit lovestruck, so Clary decided that yes. This was good. She raised her thumb at him, and he grinned.

Simon deserved her. He worked so hard, both on his music and his accounting degree. Maia seemed to be a wonderful person, and Clary was glad that Simon wouldn’t be the third wheel to a lot of their outings now. Between Jace and his girlfriend, Clary and Izzy, and Alec and his regular boyfriends… now Simon had someone too.

“She’s coming to the party toni-”

A car’s horn blared and Clary came back to her senses. The portal.  _ Magnus Bane _ .

“I gotta go,” she mumbled, and ran off, without even saying goodbye to anyone.

 

\-------------

 

Alec walked up to the training room. He could hear the distinct and familiar sound of knuckles against leather. A part of him wanted to drop everything and join Lydia in senseless, calming punching, but he couldn’t. 

“Lydia, can we talk?” He grabbed her attention.

The woman stopped punching, and looked at him, for the first time since before she’d arrested Izzy. She looked tired, she looked frustrated, and Alec almost wanted to give her a break, but he just… he just couldn’t. The idea of losing Izzy, losing her for real, seeing her walk out of the Institute, without runes, and never come back, made him want to claw off his skin.

“Is this where you tell me the engagement's off?” Lydia asked.

Alec frowned. This had nothing to do with the engagement. Not  _ everything _ had to do with the engagement, no matter what Jace seemed to think. “What? No.”

“Why wouldn't you?” She sighed, and Alec shook his head, holding up his hand for her to stop spiraling.

“Can we just talk off the record?” He asked, crossing his arms. He needed to tell her everything, that way maybe she would stop everything that was happening. She was the one that was prosecuting Izzy, not the Clave itself, and if she just… decided to say it had been a mistake, it would all be okay.

“Head of Institute hat off?”

“Yeah.”

Lydia nodded and moved to grab her bottle of water and her sweater. Alec swallowed. Admitting to this could go either way. Either Lydia could use it against Izzy once it came to her actual prosecution, or Lydia could decide to do what was the best for the two of them.

After all, hadn’t she been ready to do that before, with sending Meliorn to the City of Bones? Or had it all been a ploy, to get Alec to agree with her and stand by her side when his gut had been telling him that maybe Izzy’s revolt did not come from fleeting feelings?

“Listen, I need to come clean about what happened at the City of Bones.” he started. He didn’t have time to continue before she spoke up.

“Isabelle was there, wasn't she?”

Alec guessed that him needing to admit something could only be that. After all, what else could he be hiding about what had happened there? He hadn’t been involved in the rebellion, and… he wasn’t ready to take the fall too. If he was arrested too, no one would be able to get Clary and Jace back, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything from a cell in the City of Bones.

“Yeah and Jace and Clary,” he added. “And some vampires and werewolves. They thought they were stopping a war with the Downworld.”

Lydia sighed and looked at him. “Well, they weren't wrong, but I had orders.”

Alec nodded. “Yeah, and I understand that better than anyone.” he did. He really, really did. Orders were the only thing that really mattered, or at least so he thought. Alec liked knowing what to do. He liked taking decisions, as much as he liked receiving orders. Orders were simple. They weren’t dominated by feelings. 

“But I can't let Izzy be exiled for this.” he finished. “She’s my parabatai, Lydia. Without her, I don’t even know what I’m going to be able to do. If I’m even going to be able to… function.”

“In the eyes of the Clave, she's guilty. And not only that. She is guilty. She went against orders, she went against the Law. Rule-breaking… Rule-breaking can be excused but this is high-treason, we’re talking about.” Lydia replied. 

Alec nodded. “I get that, I do.” He tried to temperate. “Just… You’re the one that arrested her. You’re the one that’s prosecuting her. You could withdraw charges. The ink isn’t even dry on the paperwork.”

Lydia crossed her arms. “Alec…” She was going to refuse, wasn’t she? Of course she was. It made sense, that she would. She was so… she followed the Law. Alec understood that. He did, but he just… Lydia was supposed to be his future wife. How could she not see that breaking the bond could affect him more greatly than anything?

There was one way for Izzy to get out of this. They had to give the Cup to the Clave.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 12 - This World Inverted Part 2
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	12. This World Inverted - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> This is This World Inverted, Part 2!
> 
> This is the second part of the TWI episode, and much more of the TWI universe. This time, we meet Magnus, and the party is a little different than in the original...
> 
> Enjoy!

Magnus knew that he should have kicked the red-head out of his home the second she’d uttered the word ‘Shadowhunter’. Shadowhunters had been dead for centuries. Gone, assimilated into the mundane world. Magnus was one of the last warlocks to have ever been born, less than a century before they closed the rift. 

He’d almost been forced to stay in Edom by the closing gates, only escaping his father’s claws and slipping through the portal moments before it sealed forever, falling right into the arms of very surprised and exhausted Shadowhunters on the other side. 

They had been too tired and too weak to do anything to him, not after everything they’d done to close the rifts, and the warlocks that had helped them had taken Magnus under their protection immediately, even if they’d recognized his father’s mark all over him.

Ever since then, Magnus had barely used his magic. It had become dormant, extinguished inside of him, and now, he was realizing that maybe the disappearance of his warlock mark had been something he should have hated, not something he should have been happy about. 

Now there was a hopeful young Shadowhunter with no runes, and tales of demons and genocide from another dimension, and all he could do was mix the rare herbs he still kept and pray that it would do something.

“This better work,” he muttered, looking at the concoction that seriously smelled. 

“What does that do?” she asked as he was taking a sip. 

It tasted as horrible as it smelled. ”Hopefully kick-start my magic.” he still couldn’t feel anything. His body seemed to still be… turned off. He was an empty vessel and he knew it. Could he even use magic? Or had the magic been cut off from him when the rift had sealed? Maybe he should have asked himself that  _ before _ trying to use a  _ potion _ .

“And?” She was impatient and Magnus understood.

“Give it a minute?” 

All it was doing, for now, was making him feel like something was seriously burning his stomach. He rolled his eyes and looked over at the girl again. She was going through the pages of the Book of the White. 

“That book is very precious,” he explained. Hopefully, she did not have anything sticky on her hands, because he did not want anything staining this book. She looked old enough not to walk around with jelly or jam on her fingers, but you never knew, with college students. “Warlock spells preserved in all their grandeur.”

“It's stunning.”

“It is,” Magnus nodded. “This-” he stopped, feeling something spark inside of him for less than a second, but it left immediately after. He sighed in frustration. “This isn't working.”

He hadn’t used magic in decades, not even a small spell, it was all gone, he’d lost the ability to use it. He was no longer but a glorified mundane. “This is the longest I've ever abstained.,” he mumbled. 

He’d been a recluse for so long. There were no High Warlocks, no authorities, no councils anymore. Warlocks just lived their lives alone. What was the point of anything if you were alone? So Magnus had just closed everything up. He’d taken everything down, stopped using magic, stopped seeking the company of other Shadow Beings. 

He hadn’t been to a proper party in decades, hadn’t tasted alcohol, drugs or sex in a century. What good was he to this Shadowhunter girl? 

“From a lot of things.”

“Why don't you just try something simple? Move that.”

Her hope was almost annoying. He flexed his fingers for a second and tried. He put everything into it, everything he could remember, but nothing came out of his fingers, not even a small spark of blue magic.

“There’s no use,” he whispered.

“Usually, you have a little bit more of a flourish to it.” the girl said, waving her arms around as if she was trying to take flight.

“I do not look like that.”

“Well…”

What was he like in the other dimension? Did he use magic often enough that a Shadowhunter would know he was a warlock, and know she could ask for help from him? Was he this dramatic? The way she was waving her arms around, almost felt like the way he used to perform magic when he was still using it, right after leaving his father.

He remembered his father’s lessons.  _ Your body is a weapon, make them afraid of even the slightest motion of your fingers. Your body is your power, use it, make them see the power inside of you, make them believe that you are bigger than they ever will be. Make them feel like insects next to you and your glory. _

He pushed away a shudder before focusing back on the candle he was supposed to move. This time, blue sparks did fly out of his palm, but it was far from enough; and he just couldn’t bring himself to even move it a tiny bit.

“Magnus, we just have to find the Portal.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. He fucking knew that. “Even if my magic was working, I'd still need an energy signature of some kind to track it.” He snapped. He was maybe dormant, but he was not completely stupid. He knew things about magic that this… child could never fathom.

The girl looked at him with wide eyes. “I have something,” she said and broke off the purple stone off of her necklace. “The Seelie who brought me here told me this was a piece of a Seelie portal, that-”

“Was of this dimension.” Magnus finished.

He reached for it. His fingers connected with the shard. The energy felt almost like a punch in the gut. It was intense, and for a second, he forgot where he was or what he was doing, there was only magic. He could feel it down to his bones, the sudden… weightlessness. Suddenly, magic was back to carry him. “Oh.” he had missed it more than he had imagined.

“Now that's what I'm talking about,” he grinned. “We have lift off.”

He hadn’t felt something this good in so long. It was like piercing through the surface of the water after spending a little longer than necessary in apnea. His soul was gulping air, gulping magic, welcoming it into his system.

Magnus shook his head and focused back onto the shard. He took a deep breath, and tried to find it. It was old. Very old. It made sense since Magnus himself didn’t exactly remember the last time a Seelie had been in this dimension.

“The energy is very faint. It's been dormant for a long time. Like me,” he chuckled. “Let's see if we can wake it up.”

The shard was giving him… little to work with, but at least it was in New York. In Manhattan, to be more exact.

“Can you see it?” the girl asked. So impatient. 

Magnus nodded. Underground. Purple energy, frozen into a wall. “Yes. It's in a sub-basement of-” In something that looked like a church but wasn’t and… fuck. “Fort Knox.”

“Like, literally Fort-” 

Magnus rolled his eyes. “No, but it might as well be. The Institute.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Why is that a problem?”

“High tech, high security. Impossible to get into.”

She chuckled. “I’m sorry, I introduced myself as Clary Fray earlier, but that’s my… other name. My name in this universe? Clary Morgenstern. As in, the daughter of Valentine Morgenstern, the CEO of The Institute.”

Magnus stared at her. Maybe she could have said that before?

“We’re hosting an anniversary party tonight,” she added. She was about to add something else when her phone chimed, and Magnus almost rolled his eyes. Teenagers and their cell phones.

“I gotta go,” Clary added. “Meet me tonight at 7:00 p.m. at the Institute. Dress to impress.” She winked at him, something he did not really understand, and… left? Like this? Suddenly?

Nevermind the girl’s abysmal manners, Magnus hadn’t had this much excitement in his life since… he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this excited about anything.

 

\-----------

 

The Institute cells weren’t that bad. The lighting wasn’t too violent, and the bed didn’t look that uncomfortable. There was little to no privacy, but Izzy had seen the City of Bones’ cells, and she knew it wasn’t exactly better there.

The door opened suddenly. Raj was outside telling the person to keep it short. Izzy turned towards her visitor. Alec was standing there. He looked stressed out, with his arms crossed so tightly against his chest, as if he was trying to keep himself from punching something or someone.

“Someone stole the Cup.”

Izzy licked her lips and looked away. Of course, he’d found out. She should have told him, but he had been so wrapped up around Lydia’s pinky that she hadn’t felt like she could trust him with that information.

“Izzy, did you know about this? Angel, did you help them?”

She could feel his fury, even if he wasn’t sharing his emotions with her. She stayed silent for a long time. He was so angry at her. And so afraid. She could feel it too, she knew he was afraid. Her exile could kill him.

“The Cup was the only thing that could get you out of this,” Alec muttered, almost pleadingly. “Please tell me you didn’t help someone steal it. Because then it just… your sentence will be even worse. Izzy, you could be sentenced to death, for this.”

Izzy wanted to reply, but her throat seemed to be knotted. Death. Colluding with rogue Shadowhunters - one of whom being Valentine Morgenstern’s daughter - in stealing one of the Mortal Instruments… that did sound like something she could be sentenced to death for. Or worse, Forsaken.

“Clary has it,” she replied, turning around to look into Alec’s eyes.

“She put the whole Shadow World in danger,” Alec looked at her and she could see the despair in his eyes, the fear. “She put you in danger. Izzy, why did you do this?”

“I did this because it was what was right for me to do. Shadowhunters are supposed to protect the Shadow World from demons. Seelies are part of the Shadow World, all Downworlders are.” Izzy stood up from the bench and walked to him. “I’ve made my choice.”

Alec pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, tight enough to crush her. “I’m not going to let you die.” He whispered.

“They've taken Meliorn back to the Seelie realm,” Izzy revealed. “No one can track them there.”

Alec said nothing. He just held her tighter.

 

\--------------

 

Izzy had an emergency. Izzy. Clary’s girlfriend. Something inside of Clary made little *squee* noises at the idea that Izzy was her girlfriend, that they were in love, that in this universe, they were together. 

It was a little insane. It was… completely insane. Izzy was amazing, and perfect, and damn, from Clary’s reading of their text history while on the subway, their relationship was relatively new, but still pretty… mature.

Clary brought her hand up to touch the side of her hair again, the one that had been cropped short by - according to the text history - Alec’s beard clipper. She got off the subway and basically ran to Izzy’s apartment. It was not far from the Institute, so she could go to work pretty easily.

“What's the emergency?” She exclaimed as she almost burst through the door of the studio apartment.

Izzy, in all her drama, was standing with her back turned to her, and Clary almost chuckled at that. She turned around and revealed a big bruise blooming over her cheekbones and eye.

“Oh, my God. What happened?!” She’d never seen Izzy with a bruise. She’d never seen Izzy hurt in any type of way. Izzy was one of the best fighters Clary had ever seen, and she’d seen few, but still.

“Kickboxing class. I thought, "Why not? Quick class after work. And, boom! Home in time to see you.”

Clary felt something warm bloom in her chest at that. Kickboxing. Even in this universe, Izzy was still a fighter. And still absolutely gorgeous.

“Andrea's foot right into my face. She had to pick today to finally land her roundhouse? Now I look horrible, and the party is in what? Three hours? Less? It won’t be gone by then, and we’re finally telling your dad about us, and I just want everything to be perfect. There will be all the investors.”

“Hey, hey,” Clary smiled, trying to calm Izzy now. “You’re going to be fine. You look gorgeous even with a small bruise.”

Izzy looked at her with earnest, wide eyes, and Clary sighed softly. “You sure? I can’t wear my contacts, and I don’t like wearing my glasses to parties, they just aren’t…”

“Babe, you’re beautiful,” Clary couldn’t help but say. Maybe it was the other Clary slipping in the cracks, but Izzy really was beautiful, even with the bruise, especially with the bruise. “Really. It makes you look really badass…”

Izzy bit her lip. “And you like badass…”

Clary blushed. “I do.”

Izzy leaned up to kiss her softly, and Clary kissed her back, aware of every motion the woman made against her. Aware of the arm snaking around her waist to pull her closer. She could get used to this.

“We still need to fix it,” Izzy whispered against her lips. “Alec is going to kill me if we don’t.”

Clary chuckled and cupped her cheek. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m gonna help you. I’m an artist, remember? And make-up is only just paint for your face.”

“Dork.”

“You love it,” Clary whispered breathlessly.

“I do,” Izzy admitted, and kissed her again, deeply. Clary let herself be pulled down on the bed, and let Izzy straddle her, kissing her still. Izzy was perfect, and fuck, Clary was ready to say I love you to her any day. They’d only been dating for two months, but they’d known each other for so many years…

It had taken Izzy going to college for a while, for the both of them to realize they were so much more than friends. And now, Clary got to make out with this gorgeous woman any time she came home, or any time Izzy came to the dorm.

Clary grabbed Izzy’s thighs and flipped them over. Izzy wrapped her legs around her waist and pulled her closer, guiding her mouth down her face to her neck, where they both knew Izzy loved to get bites and hickeys.

Clary gently pushed away Izzy’s hair and attacked her skin with her lips, the woman gasping under her. Hmm. they had time before the party. And she hadn’t seen Izzy in so long… maybe they could just, have a quickie, and then get ready.

She let go of Izzy for a minute, long enough for the woman to take off her shirt. She was so beautiful. Clary kissed down her throat and started kissing down her chest to her breasts. Weird. She could have sworn Izzy had a tattoo there.

Izzy was rune-less.

In the blink of an eye, Clary was back. She looked around her, moving away from Izzy. The woman made a frustrated sigh, and sat up.

“No time, I’m guessing?”

Clary swallowed, trying to come up with something. She had been really close to disappearing forever because making out and possibly having sex with Izzy wasn’t too far from her current real-dimension fantasies. She nodded, trying not to stare too much at the woman’s half-naked chest.

The both of them got back up, and Clary started going through Izzy’s makeup, to find concealer for the bruise that was still there on her cheek. Izzy was getting their dresses out of the closet.

Clary was given a long, flowy black dress with spaghetti straps, and small, purple-ish metallic stars embroidered into the fabric. Izzy threw a black tank top at her to cover some of her cleavage. Smart. She sent her girlfriend a smile before they sat down next to the mirror to cover up the bruise.

“Hey, would you mind getting someone on the guest list for tonight?”

Izzy shrugged. “Sure! A friend of yours?”

“Yes,” Clary chuckled. “He’s that… psychic guy from the ads on tv?”

“Magnus Bane?” Izzy chuckled. “Colorful. No problem, I’m sure there will be no issue, besides, what’s one guest more?”

“You’re the best.”

 

\--------------------

 

Three hours later, the party was starting up. Izzy tried her best to have fun. It wasn’t that Alec had done a bad job, not at all, but she had her glasses on, and she was going to come out to her boss by telling him she was dating his daughter. 

Mr. Morgenstern didn’t seem like he would have any problem with the fact his daughter was a lesbian, but maybe he would have some with the fact Izzy was dating her? You never knew. Izzy just wanted everything to be perfect. She smoothed the fabric of her light purple and blue off the shoulders dress.

She walked over to where her boss was talking with some investors, catching the end of their conversation.

“See, I was obsessed when I was a kid,” Mr. Morgenstern explained. “Alice looked into the mirror and fell into another dimension. Well, it must have stuck with me, because, when I grew up, I looked into the Internet and realized it needed another dimension.”

Izzy grinned. She loved this story. She loved how it made sense to her too. Working at the Institute was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

“And our 4D, breaking-the-speed-barrier Internet was born.”

Mr. Morgenstern turned to her with a smile. “Everyone, this is my talented developer, Isabelle Lightwood. She’s going to have an amazing career, and I’m grateful to have minds like hers in my team.”

Izzy thanked him and started introducing herself to the people Mr. Morgenstern had been talking to.

“People said I was mad, so I owned it, hmm?” The man said, before excusing himself, grabbing one of the Mad Hatter hats that were waiting around for people to wear, and exchanging a few words with Simon.

Clary was standing next to the bar, and Izzy walked towards her once she was done doing her work with the guests. She smiled at her girlfriend. Clary looked… amazing. She’d done her hair so the shaved side would be covered a little, and her makeup matched the purple shimmering of the stars on her dress.

“You look breathtaking,” Izzy whispered, watching as Clary almost jumped out of her skin at that. “May I?” She said, holding out her hand for Clary to take.

“Izzy, hey,” Clary smiled but kept looking around them, as if she was waiting for someone, or wondering if people were watching them.

“Are you ready to do this?” Izzy asked. “We can just… pretend to be friends. You look like you’re nervous.”

She could pretend for a while longer. She understood, of course, that Clary might want to keep their relationship private for a little longer.

“No, no,” Clary said immediately. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Izzy grinned. “Then, maybe we should just… dance?”

Clary nodded, putting her phone down on the table, and letting Izzy lead her to the dancefloor. They started dancing, swaying a little, both a little awkward. Unfortunately, Izzy didn’t have time to relax before Mr. Morgenstern walked up to them.

“So, you are the famous girl my daughter is dating, Isabelle.” He said, and Izzy froze.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, Mr. Morgenstern, I guess we should have told you before, or maybe I should have asked for your permi-” she started rambling before Mr. Morgenstern held up a hand.

“Isabelle. Call me Valentine,” he simply said. “I hope the two of you enjoy the evening.”

Izzy didn’t know what to think. ‘Val’ meant they were good, but the man was so… stoic, that she didn’t even know if he wasn’t just going to fire her the day after this.

The song changed and Clary acted immediately. “Uh, Dad, this is, um, our song.”

It wasn’t their song, but fuck, Izzy was happy Clary thought fast on her feet, and was able to get them away from him as fast as she could.

“Oh, right,” Valentine said, and turned to Izzy. “It’s a pleasure, to know my daughter is in good hands.”

Izzy beamed and didn’t lose her smile, even as he walked away, and Clary and she went back to their awkward parents-are-in-the-room dancing. Izzy didn’t actually know if her parents were around, and it was alright. She didn’t want her father to be there, and she knew her mother currently had a lot of things on her mind, with the divorce, and the battle for Max’s custody.

Both Clary and her seemed to be finally relaxing though, as Clary started to pull her a little closer and smile at her with that twinkle of tenderness in her eyes that Izzy loved so much.

 

\---------------

 

Hodge Starkweather was not used to being summoned to the Head of Institute office. Maryse and Robert Lightwood tended to completely ignore him most of the time, and when they needed something from him, they usually sent someone like Raj. 

He knocked on the door and heard Lydia Branwell’s voice shout a loud “come in”. She was sitting at the desk, going over some papers that surely had to do with Isabelle’s recent arrest, and looked up at him.

“Hodge Starkweather,” she stood up and held out a hand for him to shake. “Lydia Branwell. We did not have time to get formally acquainted since I’ve arrived. There have been many setbacks.”

“Better late than never, I’m guessing,” Hodge replied, and shook her head.

She gestured for him to sit down and he did. The woman looked at him in silence for a moment. Hodge did not remember who her parents were, even if he guessed he’d probably met them at the Academy. Judging from the fact she had been tasked to take care of the Institute and seemed to be trusted by the Clave, the Branwells had not been followers of Valentine.

“I’ve summoned you to ask a few questions regarding Isabelle Lightwood,” she said. “This is an interview that will be sent to the Inquisitor, and be part of the prosecution.”

Hodge nodded, swallowing. He needed to lie. Because he knew Isabelle had covered for Clarissa Morgenstern. He himself had helped Isabelle and Jace leave the Institute to break the Seelie out. He was guilty, in a way, guilty of collusion.

And there was the issue of the ring. He didn’t have the clearance to erase the footage of the Forsaken attack, and it would have been too big an event for the disappearance of the tapes to go unnoticed.

“Ask away, Ms. Branwell,” Hodge nodded, smiling at her.

“Please, call me Lydia,” the woman answered, and for a second, Hodge believed maybe he could seduce her out of interrogating him, but she was steadfast. “As the weapons trainer of this Institute for the past seventeen years, you surely have spent a lot of time with Isabelle Lightwood, during her formative training years, as her parents, Maryse and Robert Lightwood, were Heads of this Institute.”

“I have,” Hodge nodded. “I’ve known the Lightwood children for their entire lives.”

“Can you testify that Isabelle Lightwood is the only Shadowhunter in this Institute to use the adamas snake whip?”

Hodge hummed. “I can testify that she’s the only one to have this particular whip as a signature weapon, but she’s not the only one able to use a whip in combat.”

“According to you, how common is it for Shadowhunters to be masterful in combat with a whip such as the one Isabelle Lightwood uses?”

“Uncommon,” he replied. He couldn’t really lie on facts such as these. It was so easy to check them.

Lydia nodded, taking notes. Hodge wondered why she was, after all, this was being recorded, so she would just have to check the tapes. He shrugged the thought off and focused back on the woman and her tight-lipped, unhappy smile.

“Is there anything in Isabelle’s behavior, prior to the arrest of the Seelie Meliorn, that could have led you to believe she would go against the Law?”

Hodge crossed his legs and thought for a moment. “Isabelle was always a wild spirit, but not unlike many young Shadowhunters. She was eager to go into the world and carry out her sacred mission as a Shadowhunter.” He explained. “Actually, prior to the arrest of Meliorn, she had actually started to act more like an adult member of Clave society, and less like a rebellious young Downworld-loving teenager.”

“In your opinion, Hodge, what caused her sudden change of behavior, going from a Downworld lover to a respectable young Shadowhunter woman?” Lydia asked.

“I would say that it was the Clave’s loss of patience towards the way the Institute was run. The change happened maybe two days before your arrival, nothing more. With the sudden desire for her parents to marry her and Alec, I think she decided that it was time to grow up.”

Lydia nodded again, looking at him curiously. “Do you believe that the arrival of Clarissa Morgenstern into Isabelle’s life pushed Isabelle to go as far as to disregard orders and the Law?”

Hodge winced. “The thing with Clary Fairchild is that she was not raised a proper Shadowhunter. She has no real knowledge of the Law, of the Accords, of the Covenant, she does not realize the natural differences between Shadowhunter and Downworlder, and she does not realize the rules that dictate Shadowhunters’ lives, and that things must be done for a reason.”

“I have heard that the Fairchild girl was not…” Lydia hummed. “Was the kind that would refuse a marriage with a man. Could it be possible that she would have influenced Isabelle to behave against the Law, from her perspective as a… woman of singular taste?”

 

\-------------------------

 

This party was the ultimate success. It was what would put Alec on the map for years to come, and he knew it. Everything was perfect, and though it was not the kind of social circle Alec was used to working for or attending, there were enough influential people for him to get some very interesting contracts out of this. 

Alec leaned against the wall next to the entrance and observed his kingdom. He needed to thank Valentine Morgenstern for giving him a chance, not that the man really had that much choice. His mother had probably rung up her old friend. Alec had no qualms in using family connections to get himself somewhere.

“Magnus Bane? I should be on the list.”

Alec raised an eyebrow. Magnus Bane? The guy from that shitty commercial? He looked over his shoulder at the entrance, where Raj was standing with the list. Magnus Bane indeed. Tall, but smaller than Alec, handsome, and looking nervous. Wonderful.

“Check it again. I told you, I'm on the list.” There was some slight desperation in his voice.

“You're not here.” Raj, ever loyal.

Alec decided that it was his time to shine. The man was very pretty, and very much Alec’s type. He did have a thing for nerds. And this one, if the commercial was right, was a spiritual one. 

“What seems to be the problem?” He asked as he stepped up next to Raj, eyeing Magnus Bane. The man stared right back at him, eyes wide and earnest, and delightful. 

“This one wants to crash the party.”

“This one” looked as innocent as a man had ever looked. His eyes were begging for Alec to let him in, and Alec was not going to refuse a beautiful man, not today. He already knew that he would woo this man into having a drink with him another day.

“I'll be responsible for this one,” Alec said, and he saw the relief flooding the man’s face. “Come on in.” he smiled, not caring a second about the way Raj seemed to be annoyed.

Who cared if Alec let this one in. He didn’t look like much of a threat to anyone. Alec reached for two teacups, and gave one to the man who had followed him inside.

“To us.” He cheered, and the man’s eyes went a little wide, but a smile started to appear on his lips. Alec looked around for a second, then back at the man. They both took a sip, and Alec could see in the other’s eyes that he was interested too.

“And you are?”

The man took a breath and looked at him. “Magnus Bane.”

“Alec Lightwood ” Alec replied, letting his eyes checking over the man’s body. Damn, he looked good. 

“Thanks, but I gotta go.” And just like that, the man was basically running away from him. Alec knew that it wasn’t because he didn’t want to talk to him. He seemed to have someone he needed to see.

“Playing hard to get. I love a challenge.”

 

\-------------

 

This might be the best party of Simon’s life, and he would forever be grateful for the opportunity to perform. His set was going to start, in about 30 minutes, so he had time for one drink, and one kiss from his girlfriend. 

Maia was standing a bit on the sidelines. Simon realized it wasn’t really her scene. It was all tech and family friends, and Maia barely knew the ones Simon called his ‘squad’. He walked up to her and smiled.

“You’re looking great tonight,” he complimented.

She smiled at him. “Why, thank you very much.”

Maia always managed to look perfectly rock n roll, and sophisticated at the same time, and it blew Simon’s mind. He’d never known someone who just never looked like a mess. Even in the morning, Maia just… radiated beauty and composure.

He leaned in to give her a kiss, and she kissed him back.

He knew she’d originally wanted to cover up the scars on her neck, before meeting his family, but he’d convinced her otherwise. He didn’t care about her scars, and he knew his family wouldn’t either. They could never know the truth, but they would surely never ask.

Maia was a werewolf. That blew Simon’s mind as well. She’d told him after a couple of weeks of being formally girlfriend and boyfriend. She’d told him about the wolf form, about the small packs that flourished in cities, and the giant community of people online.

She’d told him about the stories she’d heard, of people that were not human. Vampires, fairies, and wizards. Simon found that endlessly fascinating. It was like he was finally the hero of his own fantasy novel. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to choose between Maia and a hot vampire any time soon.

They kissed for a while, smiling and making a bit of small talk in between pecks, trying not to be responsible for too much PDA. It was still a work thing for Simon, and the parents of his childhood best friend were here.

Speaking of, he looked around and saw Clary, standing there looking at her parents. There was some sort of longing look on her face, that Simon didn’t really understand. Clary always talked about how grossly in love Valentine and Jocelyn were.

A man walked up to her, and grabbed her arm, pulling her with him. Simon frowned and watched from afar as Clary tried to have him let go of her. He was about to step forward to see what the problem was when the man held up his hand and snapped his fingers.

What the fuck. There was a picture of a cat, in the man’s hand. What the fuck? Was he one of the tech gurus who had managed to come up with watches with holograms? Was it that? A hologram of a kitten?

Clary still looked scared and trying to get away from the strange hologram man. The man snapped his fingers again, and another cat appeared. Simon took a step forward and started walking towards Clary and the man when the man turned his back to him.

Within seconds, Clary seemed to stop fighting and followed the man towards the door leading to the basement.

“Hey, is Clary okay?” Simon said as he walked up to Jace. Jace raised an eyebrow, looking at his friend. He was waiting for his girlfriend to show up and hadn’t really paid attention to what Clary was doing. Probably nothing bad, considering that it was her father’s party.

He looked around and shrugged. “I think so?”

Simon sighed. “I saw a guy pull her through the door to the basement. I think she’s in some kind of trouble.”

Jace sighed. “Okay. I’ll go check it out, maybe go warn Alec that we have a party crasher?”

Simon nodded and started walking towards Alec and Raj, self-proclaimed security detail for the party.

Jace took a deep breath and started walking towards the basement door. He wasn’t exactly the most… fight-y, but if he needed to, he would defend Clary’s honor with his life. What was up with that? Had Clary started to do drugs while in college and was the man threatening her for money?

The stranger was holding her arm when Jace walked up to them. 

“I can feel it,” he was saying in a soft voice that made alarm bells go off in Jace’s mind. What the fuck.

“Hands off, asshole. She’s gay, taken, and her father owns the building,” Jace called out, walking up to the two of them.

Clary seemed surprised. As if she didn’t know why Jace was worried or mad.

“Jace, this isn't exactly a good time.”

“Clary, Izzy’s upstairs, and I’ve sent Simon to get Alec and Raj to take care of this guy. You don’t have to be worried, he’s not going to bother you again.”

 

\------------------------

 

The Shadowhunter was walking around in circles, pacing in front of the doorway to the other dimension. He had been growing more and more worried in the last couple of hours, constantly checking his watch, and constantly looking at his phone. 

“She’s not coming back.”

Meliorn sighed and opened one eye from where he was meditating. “Time might move differently in the other dimension. Besides, we have no idea where the portal is. It could very well be on the other side of the world.” He pointed out.

“Something could have happened to her. She’s unprotected.” Jace Wayland said, stopping in front of him. “Get up, Seelie, you’re going to let me in.”

Meliorn rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to do anything. I have told you both, I’m only letting her in until she needs back up. What could have happened to her? There are no demons in that dimension.”

“Dimensions aren’t the only thing I worry about. There are still Downworlders.”

“Don’t you listen to a single thing I say? The Shadow Kinds have conformed to the mundane way of life. There should be no packs, no clans, nothing. And in any case, Shadowhunters have disappeared long before they could start hunting and killing innocent Shadow Beings. Even if she met a werewolf, they would not recognize her as an enemy.”

Jace Wayland looked right at him. “You need to let me in. If she’s let the Other Clary take over, we won’t ever get Valentine. Or the Cup.”

“And you believe that I would rather have the Cup in Shadowhunter hands than lost in the void, where it cannot be used to hurt any of my people?”

“I believe that you’d rather it be used to save Izzy’s life.”

Meliorn’s eyes opened wide. “What are you saying, naphil?” He hissed, standing up on his feet and looking at Jace Wayland. He would not let himself be played. “I will not let you use my tenderness towards Isabelle.”

Jace rolled his eyes and put his phone in Meliorn’s hand. He’d received a text from ‘Alec’, reading:  _ Izzy arrested for High Treason. MC = Pardon. Where are you? _

“MC is the Mortal Cup,” Jace explained. “I’m not lying to you, Seelie, I need you to let me in.”

“If I seal the doorway behind you-”

“I know, the Portal is the only way out. I'm willing to take that risk. Grant me entry.”

 

\--------------

 

Alec had been sitting in front of the cell’s door for hours. Him and Izzy were looking at each other, trying to reassure each other that everything was going to be okay. They’d opened their bond again, and he was trying to flood her with comfort and reassurance, but he couldn’t entirely. 

He was afraid. He didn’t really know if he was able to lose her. Parabatai bonds were tricky and fickle things. He had no idea how much of him was dependant on her, and what it would do to him if he had to lose her.

Izzy seemed to be less afraid than him, or maybe she was just better at pretending not to feel it. Her face had been almost emotionless for the last couple of hours, as Alec tried to find a solution. Any solution.

He knew the Clave would give in and give Izzy a pardon if they could give them the Cup. They just didn’t have the Cup. They didn’t even have Clary or Jace. They had just… ran away. Entirely, just left, and left Alec and Izzy behind to pick the pieces, and get the consequences.

Alec didn’t even care about trying to help either of them anymore. Who gave a shit about Clary Fairchild’s ex-Circle member mother? Izzy might be exiled, or sentenced to death for something that Alec understood as the morally better.

It was against the Law, and against the orders, but he understood why Izzy had done it. She cared for Meliorn. She cared for Meliorn, and for the Downworld, and she’d decided that the greater good of the Shadow World might be better than respecting the Law. Alec didn’t know if he agreed but… he respected her choice.

All anger towards Izzy had melted at some point during the hours they’d spent ‘together’. He was now angry at Jace and Clary, but that was pretty much all. He was just afraid of being alone. Afraid of losing his sister, his parabatai, because Clary Fairchild decided to run away to the Seelie realm and never come back.

“I could go ask Magnus Bane if he knows any Seelie,” Alec said out loud. “And maybe they can help us get Clary and the Cup back.”

Izzy sighed. “I know Seelies enough to know they would probably not give us Clary, give us entrance into their realm for so little. And we can’t exactly tell them all about the Cup, or the Queen will take it for herself.”

Alec thought about replying with a quick joke about how Izzy probably knew better, but he just… he was just tired, and afraid, and he looked at her and nodded silently.

There were motions outside, Lydia and other shadowhunters walked up to the door of Izzy’s cell. Alec stood up and walked up to his fiancée. She looked at him, and he knew it wasn’t good news.

“I’m sorry,” she explained. “I will keep you updated on what the Inquisitor decides her sentence is, but there is nothing either of us can do.”

“Please, Lydia,” Alec whispered. “Clary has the Mortal Cup. We could propose an exchange.”

Lydia looked up at him. “You’ll have to take it up to the Inquisitor herself. It’s out of my hands now.” She turned to Izzy and took a deep breath. “Isabelle Lightwood, as of today April 12th 920, you’re formally in custody of the Clave and to be taken to the City of Bones for questioning.”

Alec could only watch as they cuffed Izzy and walked her out of the cell, out of the Institute, and towards the City of Bones. His heart was breaking with every step she took away from him. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 13 - Blood Calls To Blood Part 1
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	13. Blood Calls To Blood - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> This is Blood Calls to Blood part 1!
> 
> We're nearing the final stretch and the stakes are getting higher. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Everything had happened so fast. One second, Jace was stepping through the doorway in the Seelie Glade, the next he was in the other dimension, inhabiting a body that felt weaker, and the one after, he was back in his original dimension, standing in front of a man who…

A man he’d thought was dead. He wondered if he wasn’t hallucinating from all the dimension changes. That, or maybe it was the pain radiating from the fresh cut he’d sustained from falling on that sharp piece of metal coming out of the portal. Seelie portals were different from warlock ones. Jace couldn’t explain how; he just felt it. 

“Jace, how do you know this man?” Clary’s voice brought Jace back to the present, and to the man that was standing in front of them. 

It had been years since the last time Jace had seen him. Years; and he’d missed him, and mourned him, and he could feel the pain, and the relief, and everything taking over him. 

“He's my father,” Jace whispered. 

He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel. He was feeling too many things at the same time. So many emotions, and a couple of underlying physical issues. Pain, radiating from the cut, and he was almost completely sure there was demon venom on it.

His father was standing there. He looked older, and he looked tired, and he looked weak, but… he looked like his father. 

“Dad?” Jace’s voice shook. He couldn’t actually believe what was happening. His father had been dead, and now he was not. It was… death was final, he always had known that. And now… years of pain… he was here. 

“Son.” The man - his father - said, and opened his arms, and Jace fell into them and held him tight against him. Jace could feel tears welling up to his eyes, and he tried to swallow them back. His father had never really been fond of tears, and he didn’t want him to see them in his son’s eyes. 

“Oh, Jonathan,” his father whispered. “I can't believe it.”

Jace couldn’t remember the last time he’d been called Jonathan. Actually, he could. Before the day his father had died, right in front of his eyes. It had been eleven years. Izzy had been extremely quick to shorten Jonathan Christopher to Jace, especially considering the fact that in Izzy’s and Jace’s year at the Academy, there had been three other Jonathans.

Children born during and after the Uprising had been often named after great figures of Shadowhunter history. Jonathan Shadowhunter’s name, the one of the very first naphil, had been a popular choice amongst parents anxious to reaffirm the Clave’s glory. Abigail, David, and Wayland were numerous as well.

“Son, you're hurt. How did you find me?”

Jace couldn’t exactly think past the fact that he was alive. His dad was alive. Even if Valentine had killed him, right in front of Jace’s eyes, eleven years ago. “You're dead. Valentine killed you. Valentine's... Valentine's here.”

“No, Jonathan. It's me.”

The man looked into Jace’s eyes, and Jace wanted to believe him, he really did. He looked like his father, he seemed to be his father. The poison made Jace’s head dizzy, his vision blurry, and the voice was so perfectly familiar, present in Jace’s dreams of all kinds, and he really wanted to believe him.  

The man turned to Clary, and for a second, Jace felt like he needed to protect her.

“I'm Michael Wayland,” the man said, “I’m Jonathan’s father.”

Clary looked back at him silently, more shocked than anything. Jace understood. He’d told her about his father’s death, and some stories about his childhood. And he’d never told her his name was Jonathan Christopher Wayland, not Jace Wayland.

“Look, I know what Jonathan told you, but I've been here for ten years,” Michael Wayland explained. “Valentine took off and left me.”

“And Jocelyn Fairchild?” Clary asked, something hopeful in her voice.

“He took her with him. You are?”

“I'm Clary, her daughter.”

Something passed over his father’s face, some sort of recognition, some sort of curiosity. Jace guessed he hadn’t known Jocelyn and Valentine had had a daughter. Few people knew that. There were records of a dead son of theirs, but none of a daughter.

“Meliorn, the Seelie, told me that the portal could take us to her,” Clary added, explaining why they were here. Wherever here was.

Jace could feel himself slipping away. He hated it.

“Jonathan, no!” his father exclaimed, and he felt it to his bones and struggled to try to get up, to try to stop his father for being annoyed at him, but he failed, his body seemed to stop responding to him.

“He hurt himself coming out of the portal. I have no idea what’s happening.”

“Seems like Ravener venom to me,” Michael said and held Jace up. “His stele. Where is it?”

“Back pocket,” Clary replied.

They tried to activate the rune, but Jace barely felt its effects. The poison was spreading, weakening his runes, attacking the very angel part of his DNA. They dragged him to a portal, and Jace couldn’t really understand why there was a portal there, but he just let himself be dragged towards it.

“Jonathan, stay with me.”

A part of Jace had no idea if it was really his father, still, even if all the signs were pointing to it. So he fought back for a second before walking through the portal.

“We can’t trust you,” he mumbled.

“Do you remember our first demon fight? We were way out past the Institute, way up at Kinshasa. You were only eight, but you were so brave. Do you remember what you said?”

“I'm ready to die.”

"And then I said, "Sometimes it's as brave to live as it is to die.” Do you remember?” 

“I do. It's true. It's you.”

 

\-----------

 

It had only been a few hours but Izzy could already feel the pressure of the Silent Brothers’ magic onto her mind. Okay, maybe it had been more than a few hours now. She had no real idea of how long she’d been here. 

Her clothes weren’t exactly made for this environment, and she was uncomfortable and cold, and hungry, and tired. She had made her choice, she’d chosen to do this and she’d chosen her fate. It didn’t mean she wasn’t uncomfortable and afraid.

A drop of water, wetness gathered on the ceiling, dropped on her head. She shuddered. She crossed her arms and tried to get comfortable on the floor of the cell. Her heels were pretty unpractical right now, but who fucking cared?

She was going to be exiled. She was going to have to leave everyone behind. Her hand went instinctively to the parabatai rune on her stomach. Her bond with Alec would be broken. She would leave him behind. If they didn’t execute her for this. Now that they’d realized the Cup was missing, they would probably try to pin it on her too, and she wouldn’t be able to lie, with the Soul Sword.

She didn’t want to leave Alec. Izzy took a deep breath and tried to relax. Better her here than Meliorn, she tried to convince herself.

Footsteps resounded in the corridor leading to the cells, hurried, and loud, and she knew instinctively who it was, so she stood up, straightened her clothing, ran a hand through her hair.

Alec looked like he hadn’t slept in hours– like he was running on empty. “Izzy,” he whispered and came up to the door of the cell. Izzy wished she could make the metal bars of the cell door disappear so she could hug him. "Je voulais venir plus tôt mais-" _I wanted to come sooner but..._

“ça va,” _I'm alright_ , she promised, knowing what his next question would be. “Fatiguée, mais ça va.” _Tired, but alright._

Alec sighed and reached through the door to take her hand, and she let him.

“L’interrogatoire est dans quelques heures." _The interrogation is in a couple of hours._

"Je sais," _I know_ , she replied, looking at him. "Faut pas avoir peur, Alec. ça va aller." _No need to be scared, Alec, it's going to be okay._

Her brother swallowed, and she could see in his eyes that he didn’t believe her. That he loved her. And she loved him too. No matter their differences.

"C’est marrant," _it's funny,_ she chuckled. "A chaque fois qu’on est à Idris, tu te mets à parler français." _Every time we're in Idris, you start speaking French._

Alec had a small smile, holding her hand a little tighter. "Juste une habitude, j’imagine." _Just a habit, I guess_.

"C’est mignon," _it's cute,_ Izzy added, and Alec huffed. 

"Je suis pas mignon, Isabelle." _I'm not cute, Isabelle._  

"Hmm, keep telling yourself that." She switched back. She didn’t like French as much as Alec did. Her most powerful memory of it was the harsh words of her mother and the lullaby she sang them to sleep with. Izzy preferred Spanish.

Alec rolled his eyes at her, but she could see the way the tension kinda lessened in his shoulders, barely, but enough, enough to show her teasing was being successful. She wanted him to stop worrying. He had so many other things to do.

He needed to find Clary and Jace. He needed to find the Cup. He needed to keep the Institute together, and their family together, and there was so much weight on his shoulders.

“All I know is, we gotta get you out of here.” he whispered. “who do we know in Idris?”

She could feel the desperate kind of determination in his voice, almost see the cogs turning in his mind, going through every solution he could think of.

“The only people who care are Mom and Dad. But they're under suspicion themselves.”

“I could ask Lydia.”

“Lydia? Why do you keep going there? She is prosecuting me. She already told you she couldn’t do anything!”

Izzy didn’t like Lydia, but she liked her even less now, when she saw how Alec still seemed to be trusting her. She was the one responsible for putting Izzy in this situation. She could have ignored Raj’s words.

“She doesn't have a choice.”

“She could have chosen not to prosecute me. Everyone has a choice, Alec. ” Izzy sighed. “I made mine. Let me just get through this without losing my self-respect.”

Alec let go of her hand and took a step back, frustration clear in his steps. “You could lose your life. Or your sanity. Or your family.” He replied. “You could lose us!” The anger and fear were back in his voice. “Look, I know you don't want to believe this, but Lydia’s doing this so we don’t go to war with the Downworld.”

Izzy rolled her eyes. “Fuck off, Alec, you really drank Lake Lyn water.” She sighed. “She never cared about the Downworld. Meliorn, and now me? We’re just scapegoats to the Clave. They want to crack down on rebellion, show strength now that Valentine is back.”

Alec shook his head. “If I could get the Cup…”

Izzy ground her teeth. “Clary and Jace still haven’t answered your texts, I gathered. Well. They’re probably somewhere in the Seelie Court, lost forever to the food and pleasures of the Seelie Realm.”

“We need more time. I...I would find a way, to get to them. To get the Cup.”

Izzy sighed, she couldn’t even bring herself to be mad, or frustrated. “You're grasping at straws now?” Her voice was smaller than she intended, showing the cracks, showing the fear. They couldn’t get out of this. It was too late.

Alec moved close to the door again. “Izzy, listen. I'm your big brother. Please, let me help you for once.”

 

\-------------------

 

Clary sighed and reached for her phone. It was still turned off, the battery dead, and she hadn’t had time to get it to charge so she could read her texts. She had no idea what was going on, if Izzy had tried to reach her, if there were news from the Institute, from anyone. It had been 24 hours since they’d come back. She had Simon here in front of her, as they waited for an audience with Raphael Santiago.

The Hotel du Mort was still cold and weird, and dark, and Clary still hated it. Especially now that it was Simon’s home. She tried not to think about that too much. To think that Simon wasn’t her Simon anymore, but he was just… someone else, someone different. He was Raphael Santiago’s Simon.

Clary’s eyes caught the gorgeous ‘Judith beheading Holofernes’ rendition on the wall, and she walked closer to it. It was almost poetic to have this hanging at the DuMort. The glass displays around the rooms were full of antiquities that looked like they were authentic, which made Clary look back at the Caravaggio in curiosity. She had to focus though.

“Why can't we just take what we need and leave?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“If we were transfusing goat blood, no problem. But human blood, that's against the Accords”, Simon replied.

Clary was about to ask how he knew so much about the Accords, more than she actually did, when Raphael came rushing into the room. “I'm surprised you know that much.”

“I’ve been studying…” Simon exclaimed tone surprised at the sudden arrival of the other vampire. “Why do you keep doing that to me?”

Raphael looked at him with a clear lack of patience. “If you worked on controlling your enhanced senses, as you should, you wouldn't be surprised.”

So Simon had been spending all his time with Luke, and not Raphael. Clary was glad. She didn’t like Simon being here, with the other vampires. She preferred him being safe with Luke. She could trust Luke.

“Fairchild, you really have to stop barging in here.” Raphael turned to Clary.

“Sorry, Raphael. We need blood.” Jace needed it. He just did. She couldn’t lose him too. She’d grown close to him, so close that she couldn’t imagine navigating the Shadow World without Jace.

Jace understood her, more than others did. He understood that she didn’t follow the general rules that Shadowhunters followed, that she fought for what she believed, and nothing else. He followed her, he supported her. And he wasn’t stuck in this… parabatai bond like Alec and Izzy.

Not that the bond was a bad thing, it just… it added a layer of interpersonal responsibility between the two of them. They were siblings, and parabatai, and they had duties towards each other that Jace didn’t have as much.

“So I've heard. Human blood. Funny how those rules for Downworlders stop being such a big deal when you need our help.”

Clary rolled her eyes at that. Simon took Raphael apart and started talking with him. Clary couldn’t really hear what was happening. She heard some things about Camille, things they called subjugates, and Raphael seemed to grow more and more agitated and nervous, looking over his shoulder at where she was standing.

So something was going on that the Clave wouldn’t like. Interesting. Clary didn’t really care much for the Clave, but if it could get Jace the blood she needed… it wasn’t her fault if she was going to dip into a blood reserve they weren’t supposed to have in the first place.

They were already breaking the rules, Clary was doing them a favor by not reporting anything in the first place. Simon seemed to be on the same wavelength.

“You could probably get over on them with that line,” Simon started talking a little louder, beckoning Clary to come forward and apply pressure on her side. She was a Shadowhunter, and even if she was not really loved by the Clave currently, she still had angel blood. And in this world, angel blood was power. “but you weren't exactly an innocent bystander in my case.”

“We agreed not to discuss that.”

“Did we?” Simon asked, a little smile on his face. “Funny, I can't really remember,” he looked over Raphael’s shoulder at Clary. “Hey, did you ever tell the Clave what Camille did to me?”

“You can't,” Raphael exclaimed. “I'd be implicated.” He was starting to get perfectly squeamish, and Clary knew they had him.

“Then help us,” she demanded. “Raphael, Jace will die without it.”

And if Jace died? There was no telling what Clary would tell the Clave about his death.

Raphael scoffed. “I can't believe you'd do this to me. Blackmail.” The man looked at Clary and she stared right back into his eyes. He knew she would do it. She was a Shadowhunter, and she’d already done him several solids. What was a little more blood?

“You're getting off easy,” Clary pointed out. 

Raphael pushed past Simon and opened the safe with the keypad lock where the blood was. It was an entire fridge worth of blood, blood stolen from humans.

“Thank you,” Clary nodded when she was given the blood. “Simon, let's go.”

“Yeah, not so fast. I like the way you handled yourself in this negotiation,” Raphael was looking at Simon, in that way that made Clary uncomfortable. She didn’t know exactly why it made her uncomfortable. It wasn’t creepy, or territorial. “Stick around.” 

“I'm ambassador to the werewolves. It's very time-consuming,” Simon refused. 

“Let me take that burden off of your shoulders. As of now, you've been recalled. You're the advisor to the interim chapter president.”

Simon opened his mouth but Raphael stopped him. “Don't complain. My new advisor has to stay here.”

Clary wanted to grab Simon and drag him out herself, and who cared if he was supposed to stay with the other vampires? It was Simon. It was her best friend. She ground her teeth and was about to bite back when Simon accepted Raphael’s request.

The vampire had too much power over her friend, and she hated it. But she had Jace to take care of, and he didn’t have enough time for her to drag Simon away from Raphael’s claws.

 

\----------------------

 

“What did she say?”

Lydia seemed to jump out of her skin as Alec asked her that question. She was walking out of the office of the Inquisitor, and Alec needed to know what was going on and what Imogen Herondale had said about the case, about Izzy.

Lydia sighed, and walked up to him. “I’m sorry. She’s not going to let this one go.”

Alec could have punched something. “This is being rushed. I’ve never heard of High Treason charges being drawn up and the interrogation happening this soon after an arrest. It’s been what? 48 hours at most?”

“You know as well as me the Clave wants a win,” Lydia tried to conciliate and Alec ground his teeth, sighing loudly.

“A win against my sister. My parabatai. She did nothing.”

Lydia swallowed. “Now that the sanction on talking about the Circle has been lifted by Valentine’s return… people know what the Lightwoods have done. An action against the Lightwood family is not as unpopular as it might seem, right now, especially since they’re also under scrutiny.”

“Yes. We are under scrutiny. And we’re forever going to be if Izzy is exiled or executed for High Treason,” Alec crossed his arms and looked down at the woman in front of him. “Which means, the second you start being called Lydia Lightwood, you will be under scrutiny too.”

Lydia glared at him. “I have nothing to regret, my records are clean, they are spotless. I’m the one bringing glory back to the Lightwood name, not the other way around, Alec, you would do well to remember it.”

That was unexpected. Alec had always seen Lydia as someone who understood him, who understood what family and love meant to a Shadowhunter. Now, she was glaring at him with a cold threat in her voice, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d been duped, played.

“Your sister is showing the same signs as Valentine showed before the Uprising. Bending of the Law, wanton defiance of Clave order.”

“Izzy is not Valentine!” Alec’s outraged voice echoed in the walls of the corridor, making a staff hand who was walking nearby turn their head to the two of them.

“I know. But Inquisitor Herondale has suspicions. Which means the Council has suspicions. Which means right now, unless you can magically find someone else to blame, or find something to bargain for Izzy’s freedom… prepare yourself to live without her.”

Lydia’s words sounded final, and she nodded at him. “I have to go back to the Institute. You should get going too. We’ll have a verdict soon enough.”

 

\--------------------

_ Bring in the accused.  _

The voice of the Silent Brother resounded in Izzy’s head as she was lead into the room where they would interrogate her. There were only Silent Brothers here, as well as the Inquisitor, and one of her guards. The interrogation was covert, with only a small amount of people there and it felt like they were hiding it all away.

She remembered bigger contingents being tasked to interrogations, from when she’d done her Council-guard training week, during her Academy days. It was a mandatory week of service as a trainee guard to a high-ranking officer. Trainees were usually there as complementary to the seasoned guards, to observe and help. She’d been in the squad for one of the councilmembers, but she remembered the drops in the number of guards around when there were interrogations.

She was being swept under the rug, the procedures rushed to the extreme. They didn’t care whether she’d done it or not, they cared that she was processed, sentenced, and that the sentence would be carried quickly, and written on papers and reports and books for all to one day read.

The chains were heavy on her hands, ankles, and around her waist, and she knew she couldn’t run away even if she dared to try. The Inquisitor’s eyes were cold and firm. Izzy swallowed.

The sword was placed in her hands. It was light, surprisingly.

_ You stand before the Sword, accused of High Treason against the Clave. Be thee innocent or guilty, may the truth free thy soul. _

Right. Her soul would be real freed when they executed her for going against orders. Izzy took a deep breath and looked at the Inquisitor. It was horrible. She’d looked up to Imogen Herondale for years, thought of her as a role model. One of the only women warriors in her generation, one of the Clave’s best and brightest.

Izzy had thought about following in her footsteps. Her dreams had been either becoming an Iron Sister, or becoming Imogen Herondale. She’d fallen so far now, that all she could see was an old woman, holding onto horrible and dated laws.

“Have you anything to say before we start?” Herondale asked, and Izzy took a deep breath.

“I believe in the Shadowhunters’ mission.”

The older woman raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.” She said, but seemed not to ask a lot more of it for now.

“Are you Isabelle Sophia Lightwood, daughter of Robert Lightwood and Maryse Trueblood, born May 15th 899-1995, parabatai to Alexander Gideon Lightwood; stationed in the New York Institute?”

“Yes,” Izzy replied, this truth not needing to be compelled out of her much. She could feel the energy of the Sword in her hands, she could feel the way its angelic energy wrapped around her mind. She briefly wondered whether Meliorn felt something similar, that kept him from outwardly lying.

“Is your signature weapon the adamas snake whip?” 

“Yes.”

“Are you the only one in the Institute using this whip?”

“Yes.”

The Inquisitor nodded. Next, to her, an aide was recording everything Izzy was saying. Izzy felt her nerves flare up again. It wasn’t like she had a way out anymore. She was there, standing in front of Imogen Herondale, and it was the end of her life as a Shadowhunter. Within days, she would be stripped of her runes, she wouldn’t feel Alec anymore, she wouldn’t be able to see him or Jace, or Clary, or Max, or her parents ever again. She wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to Aline, whom she hadn’t even seen in months, if not years.

“Did you have a relationship, of any kind, with the Seelie Knight Meliorn?”

“Yes.”

“Did you help him escape the convoy to the City of Bones, derailing his interrogation as part of an ongoing Clave investigation regarding the supposed alliance between the Seelie Queen, and Valentine Morgenstern?”

Izzy swallowed, and tried not to answer, but it was like the word came out of her mouth without her giving it the authorization.

“Yes.”

“Do you have any remorse or regret concerning your actions?”

“No,” Izzy whispered. She didn’t want to die or be exiled, but she’d made the right choice, she’d done what was right.

The Inquisitor nodded. “I’m curious to know how you can both believe in the mission of the Shadowhunters, and go willingly and without regret against Clave orders, especially orders concerning a terrorist attack against your own Institute, in which your parabatai was injured.”

Izzy took a deep breath, and looked into the woman’s eyes. “I believe that the Shadowhunters’ mission is to protect the Shadow World against demons, and against those who would harm it. Downworlders are part of the Shadow World, Seelies especially.”

“So you believe that the Clave was working against the good of the Shadow World?”

“I believe that Valentine wants us divided now more than ever. I believe that by avoiding a war with the Downworld, by freeing an innocent Seelie and showing good faith on behalf of the Clave, I avoided for Valentine to have the advantage of us being too busy with a rebellion from the Downworld, and take the Mortal Cup.”

Imogen Herondale looked at her. “You ignored evidence the Clave had collected that made clear that the Seelies and Valentine were allied, to follow a belief, claims of innocence from a deceitful Downworlder.”

“I did,” Izzy replied. “I do not regret avoiding a war with werewolves, vampires, warlocks, and Seelies.”

The Inquisitor had a small chuckle. No matter what Izzy believed, no matter if what she’d done was right, Herondale didn’t care. All of this was a rushed, laughable excuse for a judiciary procedure.

“Isabelle Lightwood, as of today, April 14th 920, you have been found guilty of High Treason against the Clave.”

 

\------------------------

 

Clary’s phone was still dead, but at least now she’d managed to get a charger, and was letting it charge while she waited for Michael Wayland and Luke to be done with Jace. He would be okay. She knew it, she felt it, of course, he would be okay. The transfusion would be good, he just needed to have some clean blood and some more strength.

Right now, all that Clary wanted was a nap. But there weren’t any beds at the Jade Wolf. Maybe she could catch some sleep in one of the booths, the one that didn’t have poisoned Jace blood all over the seat. She yawned, and was about to move to the booth, when someone walked out of the back room.

Michael, Jace’s father. She stood up and walked up to him, eager for some news of her friend.

“The transfusion helped. He's much better. He's gonna wanna see you”, the man smiled, and Clary nodded, walking past him and towards the back room where Jace was now resting. The older man stopped her. “But, uh, can I, um, talk to you for a minute?” 

Clary was a bit surprised but… she guessed she could. The man seemed to genuinely care about his son, and she was curious. Why did he call Jace Jonathan? What had happened during the years he’d spent in Valentine’s company?

“Of course.”

Michael walked and sat down at one of the tables, looking up at Clary curiously. Softly.

“I'm-I feel as if I know you,” the man started, and Clary raised her eyebrows, looking at the man. She didn’t know him. “You're so much like your mother,” he chuckled.

It wasn’t the first time someone commented on how much Clary looked like Jocelyn. Hodge had initially mistaken her for her mother when they’d met. Clary guessed they had a strong resemblance. She’d never personally seen it, but she knew that ever since her childhood, people had cooed on how much she was a “mini-Jocelyn.” It had annoyed her for most of her life, until now.

“You're fearless and loving, and you got a mind of your own…” That was interesting. Michael seemed to have gathered a lot about who she was, from the small amount of time they’d been together. The man kept gesturing to the empty seat across from him. “A little stubborn, perhaps?”

Clary chuckled softly. Every time she met someone from her mother’s past, she realized how little she knew about her, about this world.

“I should probably work on that,” she smiled, and took a couple of steps closer to the chair.

“Maybe not. It served Jocelyn well. She hid you from Valentine long enough for you to grow up without him poisoning your mind.”

Clary guessed it was right. Sometimes, she felt a bit betrayed, that this entire world, the world she belonged to, had been hidden from her, robbed from her, for so many years. She couldn’t really imagine what it would have changed, if she’d grown up with the knowledge of what was going on, or at least partial knowledge. All she had right now were bits and pieces, and it was a bit hard to tell fiction from reality.

“It was complicated…” she started, “the way I grew up.” She’d grown up happy. Without her roots and her real self, but happy, and content and she’d had dreams, and hopes for the future that she didn’t really have anymore. Clary tried not to really think about the future now, because it was empty and scary.

She didn’t think the Brooklyn Academy of Arts was really an option for her anymore. But becoming a real, permanent Shadowhunter? It might not be what she really aspired to be. She was born to be a warrior, a fighter, one of those angelic soldiers but she wanted a choice. Not a path that she’d been put upon by… whoever had decided she was a Shadowhunter, but her own path, the one she was free to choose. Destiny wasn’t free will.

“But I know she loved me, whatever else.”

“There was no whatever else for her,” Michael explained, and Clary started… trusting? Him a little. “I knew she was carrying you when she fled from Valentine. But I never told him no matter how much he tormented me.”

So this Michael Wayland… was the reason she’d been able to grow up without Valentine in her life. Everyone had told her Valentine hadn’t known about Jocelyn. Why else would he have given up on searching for her?

“Valentine thought my mother was dead”, she said, finally sitting down in front of this man. Maybe trust wasn’t the best thing to have currently, especially in a complete stranger. A stranger who’d known her mother, for decades before Clary. A stranger who probably had a key to her own past. “Why would he ask about her?”

“Because he never gave up hope. Would it help if you knew how much he loved her? And he would have loved you too.”

It didn’t really help. Clary didn’t know if she wanted the love of a mass murderer. Someone who would murder her friends if left without supervision. Someone who would probably have hated that she was gay. It hadn’t been that easy for Jocelyn and Luke to accept, so why would Valentine be more tolerant?

“You don’t know about that.”

“He's fierce in his love,” Michael said. Was he defending Valentine? Did Clary have a case of Stockholm Syndrome on her hands?

“Because he was so twisted. He's a mass murderer. And,” she inhaled deeply. “now he has her somewhere.”

“Clary, I swear, I will help you find your mother.” the man promised, and… she guessed she wanted to believe him. “I saw and heard a great deal while I was a prisoner. Maybe that's my destiny. To bring your family and mine together.”

What?

“Go see Jonathan,” Michael said, letting her go. Clary stood up pretty quickly. She stopped for a second before walking away though. 

“Why do you call him Jonathan? Everyone calls him Jace,” she asked curiously.

“His name is Jonathan Christopher. I’m guessing there were a lot of people called Jonathan? I know of at least one other.” Michael replied, and Clary nodded, thanking him and walking away.

 

\---------------------

 

Magnus was surprised to see the Shadowhunter at the door of his apartment. He hadn’t seen him in a few days, and in all honesty, he’d hoped he’d never see him again. He’d been at home, alone, wearing comfortable lounging clothes and wondering whether adopting a new cat was a good idea. 

Shadowhunters were comfortably in the past, and he’d resolved to not think about the tall handsome man that was now marrying a woman to save his family’s legacy. No matter how much it kinda hurt Magnus’ pride. He understood why the man was refusing him, but… he’d still thought there were enough sparks between them, enough of a mutual understanding.

“Tired of bickering over the guest list for your wedding?” Magnus asked with a dramatic huff, letting the man follow him into his home. 

He was tired of this. Cat and mouse games were fun, and damn if Magnus didn’t play a beautiful cat or mouse, but this was starting to get annoying. Especially since he was stating to suspect Alec Lightwood wasn’t here to give in to the temptation.

“I need to ask you something.”

Suspicion confirmed. Magnus needed a drink. He should always know better, than to imagine anyone wanted him for something that wasn’t in one way or another business related. Cat had warned him too many times, that he got always caught in giving and giving to everyone, even those he couldn’t stand. It was Magnus’ great weakness.

And now here was this man standing here, looking so… stern, always, so severe, and so unwilling to let himself relax. Magnus didn’t want to have to deal with Alexander Lightwood. He didn’t want to have to think more about him.

Magnus hummed, and started pouring himself a drink. “Will it take long? I have a life to live, and there's not much for us to talk about.” He couldn’t help the bitterness and salt in his voice, he couldn’t help that he just wanted for Alec to feel like he was bothering him by his very existence.

“It's not about me, or any of...  _ that _ .”  _ That _ . The desire between them, the way Alec had almost succumbed to his own deep desire, his own being, let himself feel and want, for a second, and how he had let Magnus believe that something had sparked.

“This is about my sister.”

“Oh, I see. Are you referring to the fact that your adorable fiancée had Isabelle arrested for treason?” Magnus pointed out, finishing the making of his drink and going to sit down on a  chair, looking at the Shadowhunter. There was something on his face that Magnus hadn’t exactly seen before. “What can I do for you, Alec?”

The man licked his lips and took a deep breath. “I know you know the Law. I know it because I saw your name, in the Hall of the Accords, on the very first copy of the Accords. I need you to represent her interest in front of the Clave.”

Magnus raised an eyebrow, beckoning him to continue on what was truthfully a quite… unexpected turn of events. The man seemed to take that as a sign of refusal. He stepped back suddenly.

“I'm sorry to bother you. I know a Downworlder can't represent a Shadowhunter.”

“But a Shadowhunter accused of a crime can choose any advocate,” Magnus shrugged, taking a sip of his cocktail. He hadn’t gotten his hands dirty with Clave justice in decades. Maybe it was time for him to get back to it. He was more used to defending and representing Shadow People but… maybe an exception could be made for this specific naphil. 

“That can't mean a Downworlder.”

“The Clave was so rigid and prejudiced back in what they call the Time of Angels that they didn't dream of a Shadowhunter asking a... “ _ Downworlder” _ for help.” The word they used to describe warlocks and other species felt almost dirty on Magnus’ tongue. “They didn't even bother to exclude us.”

He stood up, dramatically waving his hand around, the rest of the alcohol splashing about slightly in the glass. “So, since, as you all say,” he started mimicking an elderly man, “’the Law is the Law’ there's no stopping me from slipping through this gaping loophole.”

There was almost a smile, on the serious face of the man in front of him. A smile that told him he cared so deeply about his sister that he, a Lightwood, would ask Magnus, the warlock he’d desired, for help.

“For the right price,” Magnus added.

Alec nodded solemnly. “Name it.” His voice was firm, decisive, and oh, right there and then, he seemed ready to take on the world for Isabelle. Magnus couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his lips. He liked men who made decisions, he liked them firm and strong and steadfast in their desires.

“You.”

It came out without Magnus even entirely thinking through it, and the effect was immediate. Shock was written on the Shadowhunter’s face, and he swallowed. Magnus’ eyes followed the motion of his Adam’s apple. He shouldn’t be doing this to himself, he shouldn’t be wanting still, to make this man feel good.

“In fact, I’ll do you pro bono,” he added in the silence, and he could see the cogs in the man’s head turning through his eyes.

“I can’t. I made a promise,” Alec spoke after a moment. “Anything else?”

Magnus shouldn’t be disappointed, and yet he was, so he turned around, and pretended to know exactly what he wanted. He didn’t. Maybe he could get some rubies, and diamonds, maybe he could get some rare artifacts, some of which had been stolen by overzealous nephilim centuries ago… he didn’t want wealth or jewels, he wanted Alexander.

“What else is important to you? What else tells me that your sister means enough for you to make a real sacrifice? Oh, I know.” There seemed to be one thing that this man cared about, outside of his sister. His duty as a Shadowhunter, his place as one of the warriors of the Nephilim, and there was something that was the perfect metaphor for that. “Your bow and quiver.”

Alec looked away, the realization dawning on his face. Magnus wanted the very thing for which Alec was leaving him behind. He wanted the Shadowhunter duty, the fight, the honor. He wanted his bow and quiver, the very things with which he fought demons every day. It was succumbing to his feelings, or giving up his duty.

Alec couldn’t say yes to the former. So he had to say yes to the latter. His bow and quiver, objects he actually cared about much more than he ever thought he would. He would never fight with them again, the perfect weapons of adamas, made for him, built for him, and blessed by Muriel, Alec’s patron angel.

“Done,” he swallowed.

Magnus nodded, and he licked his lips. “There’s something else you need to know.”

The warlock raised an eyebrow. “Was there some information you forgot to disclose?”

“Izzy was found guilty. The interrogation was yesterday.”

Magnus sighed. “She’s guilty, there’s nothing much I can do. No matter how many arrows I take from you.”

Alec seemed to become suddenly agitated at that, looking at him, and Magnus saw the despair in his eyes. “I can’t lose her, or our bond. She’s my parabatai. I know you don’t understand what that means but-”

“I knew parabatais. I know what the breaking of a bond can do. I can try to delay the sentence, I can try to convince the Clave not to exile her, but I doubt I will be able to.”

Alec nodded. “Then, we need to find Clary and Jace. They have the Mortal Cup.”

Alec looked into the warlock’s eyes, and he knew they were thinking the same thing.

 

\--------------------

 

Luke walked out of the room where Clary and Jace were now talking. Jace seemed to be doing better by the second. Good. He didn’t want Clary to have to lose someone else she seemed to be caring so much about. 

Luke knew what it was like to be suddenly thrust into a world that was foreign and dangerous, he remembered his first months as a lone, lost wolf, and the relief that had flooded him when he’d met Alaric. Alaric was now a brother to him, almost filling the hole that Valentine had created the day he’d left him to die, served him on a platter to rabid wolves, broken their bond.

Luke guessed Jace was Clary’s Alaric, Clary’s guidance through the dangerous waters of the Clave and life as a Shadowhunter. He couldn’t help but worry though, worry that she wasn’t trained enough, wasn’t strong enough, for this world and what it meant to be a Shadowhunter.

He remembered his first missions, and the years of training beforehand, he remembered the fear in front of demons, the fear no one spoke about. The Clave and the Academy had never told their young recruits that the fear would paralyze them, and he realized no one would ever warn the children before they were pushed into 4 am patrol.

It was time for Luke to face another thing from his past, another ghost. The one of Michael Wayland. Michael had been a dear friend, and he’d been almost an early victim of Valentine’s madness. Now he was sitting there at the Jade Wolf, casting curious looks around him at the wolves that sometimes walked into the restaurant.

“Michael,” Luke said as he sat down in front of the man. He looked older and more tired, like he’d seen and been through things that no one could really explain. Luke understood. They’d both changed so much since the day they’d last seen each other.

“Lucian.”

It was strange to hear this name again. Even Jocelyn had taken to calling him Luke this past decade. Luke Garroway. A name for a Downworlder, not the name of a Shadowhunter. 

“Everyone believed you were dead.”

“I guess you shouldn’t believe what everyone says,” Michael said, looking at Luke. There was something guarded in his gaze. “It’s been decades… I never thought I would be here. With Jonathan. With you.”

Luke nodded. He understood, he guessed. Michael seemed to be genuinely happy to see Jace again, and Luke had no idea what it would be like to be without Clary for so many years, to feel like he wouldn’t see her again. He’d had a hard enough time after turning, believing he would never see Jocelyn again.

“I heard about what happened to you. He believed you wouldn’t survive it, and said that to anyone. After all… I wouldn’t have survived becoming a werewolf, I think I would have ended it.”

Good old Clave thinking. The Circle hadn’t been born out of thin air and it showed. It left a sour taste in Luke’s mouth. “Jocelyn pulled me through.” He whispered. Jocelyn… she was still with Valentine, still his prisoner… “You were with him. Did he hurt her?

“No, and he won't,” Michael spoke, with something tender almost in his tone, something that made Luke uncomfortable. “We both know that. He'll never stop loving Jocelyn, even if he wanted to. She'll be safe.”

“I thought he was going to kill her,” Luke admitted. “After what he did to me? And I was his parabatai? I was convinced she would be dead within days, if not hours.”

“You underestimate his ability to love.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. Did he have a case of Stockholm Syndrome on his hands right now? Because he didn’t know if he was even going to want to deal with that. He understood that Jace would want to see his father, but maybe trusting Michael this close to Clary or the pack was a bad idea.

“Do I? I was his parabatai. If I remember well, it meant something, to the both of us. It was an oath, greater than anything else. It was supposed to be.”

“But it wasn’t what he had with Jocelyn.”

Luke huffed. “I guess so. In the end, it was his downfall. Jocelyn was. When she left with Clary, it destroyed him, it destroyed everything he’d tried to accomplish.”

Michael nodded. “It did. He was… he was destroyed by it, you’re right. The betrayal… yours, and Jocelyn’s. I saw everything, Luke, I saw the pain, and all he felt. I saw the demon blood he injected both himself and me, when he was trying to be better, for her. If it hadn’t been for you and her, he would have succeeded.”

Luke swallowed. Michael hadn’t been that close of a friend. They were brothers in arms more than anything, he was a follower of Valentine, the way Luke had been until the end, almost until the end. The way Michael spoke, it was… it seemed like Michael still believed in what Valentine and Maryse had preached.

Luke guessed that, if he was in Michael’s shoes… The wound of breaking the parabatai bond, the pain of having his closest, dearest friend, half of his soul, betray him that way had faded in the background. There had been people to replace him, there had been years and years of true happiness. Jocelyn and Clary, Alaric, Maia, and the pack, they had replaced the family and people he’d lost after being turned. They’d replaced Valentine, Maryse, Cleophas, Amatis and his mother.

“We need to find him. Before he hurts Jocelyn or Clary.”

 

\---------------------

 

Izzy didn’t know if she was afraid of dying. She was afraid of leaving Alec, and the rest of her family behind, but she wasn’t really afraid of death itself. She remembered classes on the effects of different demons’ poisons, that she’d taken at age 12, she remembered school trips to the Gard, she remembered the first time she’d stood in front of a demon, with her whip and her sword, and how small she’d felt that day. 

The shackles were still on her wrists and ankles, as if everyone was afraid she was going to run away. Where would she run to? Her life was wrapped around her duty, her soul was of service to the Clave and to the Angel. She had no one. Maybe she could leave and try to find Uncle Maxwell, but no one had seen him in decades, she hadn’t even known him.

The guards made her sit down on the chair in the middle of the assembly room, and they fixed the shackles to the chair. There was a light sound as the locking runes on the metal bounds were activated, and she shuddered.

She looked at the people who were sitting in the room in front of her. There were two desks in front of two rows of chairs, filled with Clave officials, and a stand in between the desks. She saw her mom and dad, her mom looked like she wanted to disappear. Her dad looked sad.

Izzy had always been the closest to Robert, even if, in the latest years, things had changed somewhat. She was still his baby girl, but her opinion of him was different. She knew he was unfaithful. She guessed she understood. They all knew, they were all told that Shadowhunters only loved once, and maybe Maryse hadn’t been that. Izzy understood that love was complicated, that sometimes you thought you fell in love, but you were just close.

She was going to be exiled, or maybe sentenced to death, and she hadn’t even met the man she was supposed to love forever. If loving a woman was possible for her, Izzy guessed that it would have been Aline, or maybe Clary. Clary was wonderful and passionate, and beautiful. Aline was more cautious, but Izzy guessed she had a type. If she could even have one.

Alec wasn’t here yet. It was strange, because the assembly was about to begin. Lydia Branwell was standing behind the desk on the left, shuffling around papers and avoiding to look up at her. The Inquisitor was standing behind the stand in the middle. The desk on the right, the one in front of her family, was empty.

If she was sentenced to exile, she probably wouldn’t get to see Max again. She would be in a cell for a couple of days before she was deruned, and she wouldn’t be allowed any visitor. It was made so the future exiled was completely alone, it cut ties entirely. It was easier for everyone if she just disappeared.

She guessed she could say goodbye to Robert and Maryse now. And if Alec made it on time, to him as well. Where was he? Was he too afraid of what was going to happen to be there? Was he busy at the Institute? Was he still trying to find a way out that didn’t exist?

_ Silence. _

The room fell silent as the voice of a Silent Brother resounded in their heads. Izzy winced, her headache was back. She hated these people and their mind voices, and how long she’d had to spend with them. Maybe something worse than exile or death would be a lifetime in a Silent City cell.

Imogen Herondale stood up, looking right at Izzy. Izzy couldn’t help but feel her heart stop in her chest when she met the icy cold stare of the older woman. The wrongness of the situation, and the irony of it made Izzy raise an eyebrow at her in defiance. This was ridiculous.

“Isabelle Sophia Lightwood,” Herondale started, “the Clave has looked into the accusation of High Treason, made by Lydia Branwell, on April 11th 920. On April 14th 920, you were found guilty in front of the Mortal Instruments. This is the sentence assembly, on today April 15th 920.”

The chair where Alec was supposed to be seated was still empty. Izzy didn’t exactly know if they were going to close the doors, but she didn’t want Alec to be late, she didn’t want to miss her goodbye. He had to be here, he had to arrive before Imogen Herondale pronounced the sentence.

Lydia stood up, and started addressing Izzy, though she still refused to look at her. Instead, she stared at the giant metal enkeli rune on the wall behind her.

“On April 10th of the Razialian year 920 and of the Gregorian year 2016, you, Isabelle Sophia Lightwood, carried out an act of High Treason against the Clave. You assisted Meliorn the Seelie, and by extension, Valentine Morgenstern, in derailing an official Clave investigation into the Seelie Court’s ties to Valentine Morgenstern. Said investigation fell under the limits of the Accords and the Covenant. By derailing it, you went against both the Accords and Covenant.”

Izzy swallowed, half of these were wrong. She doubted Seelie torture was really sanctioned by the Accords, and she also doubted she’d aided Valentine Morgenstern. She rolled her eyes, and tried to look as remorseless and firm as she could. Alec was still not there.

Lydia carried on. “Testimony from Hodge Starkweather and Raj Khatri confirmed you as a suspect of the act of treason, and the Soul Sword revealed that you were in fact guilty. It is a first offense from the accused, but it is not a first offense for the Lightwood family. One must remember the allegiance that Robert Lightwood and Maryse Trueblood, parents of Isabelle Sophia Lightwood gave to Valentine Morgenstern and his group of traitors, colloquially known as the Circle.”

Maryse’s mouth twitched, in the way it did when she was trying to contain her anger. Izzy didn’t know what to make of her mother’s show of emotion. If Maryse Lightwood actually seemed to care… maybe it really was the end of her life.

Lydia wasn’t the only one who avoided looking at Izzy. There were others, Clave officials, family relations, who kept their eyes on either Lydia or Imogen Herondale, or even the wall behind Izzy, but not her. As if looking at her would make them become what she was: a traitor, a Downworld-lover, a Seelie-fucker, or whatever else they called her now.

She hoped Meliorn was okay. That was all she needed. If he was safe and okay, and away from the claws of the Clave, then she was alright. She just needed to see Alec before she was taken away and deruned. She needed him to be there, he was her parabatai, and she could barely feel him right now. He was so far away. Probably still in New York, while she was in Idris.

“To the charge of High Treason was added assault against fellow Shadowhunter Raj Khatri,” Lydia finished. “Do you have anything to say before the Inquisitor presents your sentence, Isabelle Lightwood?”

The desk on the left was still empty. It was where Izzy’s representant should be seated, but it seemed like no one had really thought about getting her someone to represent her with the Inquisitor. She wasn’t really surprised. Of course, they would rush it and conveniently forget her representation. She was an Enemy of the Clave, who cared about defending her.

That was what she would always be now. An Enemy of the Clave. She swallowed. Branded forever in her Clave file was “High Treason” and “Enemy of the Clave”.

“I did my duty as a Shadowhunter. I protected the Shadow World from a war between Shadowhunters and Downworlders. I do not regret doing what I did, not when it saved a life, and avoided war,” she said, looking right into Imogen Herondale’s eyes again.

The Inquisitor’s face was emotionless, and she replied nothing. She took a deep breath. “As of today, April 15th 920, Isabelle Sophia Lightwood is sentenced to exile. May the Angel have mercy on her soul.”

The room was dead silent. Izzy saw her mother’s hand grabbing the chair in front of her, so hard her knuckles turned white. She saw the way she pushed Robert’s hands away when she stood up. Maryse Lightwood walked towards her, she walked to the Inquisitor, and Izzy barely understood what she was saying.

She was crying. She didn’t realize it but tears were slowing dropping down her cheeks. Her mother was trying to get the Inquisitor to change her mind, and when it failed, she tried to get to Izzy. Guards grabbed Maryse’ arms and kept her back as others pulled Izzy to her feet. She let them. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what was going to happen now. Alec wasn’t there.

They started to walk her out of the room. The door of the assembly, the other one, not the prisoners’ one, burst open, and two men walked through it. She heard Alec’s voice boom “stop it”. She turned her head and locked eyes with him. She didn’t have time to say anything, before she was pulled through the doorway and her eyes met stone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 14 - Blood Calls To Blood Part 2
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	14. Blood Calls To Blood Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again! 
> 
> Nearing the end, my dears, but things arent going that well...
> 
> Enjoy!

Alec couldn’t do anything as his parabatai was taken away. He watched Izzy disappear in the corridor that led back to the cells. Their mother was standing still next to the guards. They seemed to be ready to stop her before she tried to get to Izzy again. Alec didn’t have time to process how much she seemed to care right now. 

Magnus Bane was following him, dressed sharply and professionally in an ashy dark plum suit, and with minimal eye makeup. At least it seemed minimal to Alec. He didn’t know enough about makeup to judge. 

Alec marched up to Imogen Herondale and stared at her. He noticed Lydia as well, but didn’t pay any attention to her. The person he needed to deal with right now was the Inquisitor. And she seemed to not appreciate Alec’s arrival, or Magnus’ presence. 

“Madam Inquisitor, may I-”

The older woman completely ignored Alec’s words and instead turned to Magnus. 

“Magnus Bane. Warlocks are not allowed in Idris,” she said coldly. “Leave at once, or I will have you escorted out by guards.” 

Magnus took a deep breath and looked at her. “Madam Inquisitor, I had almost forgotten that charm of yours,” he replied. “Warlocks might not be allowed, but I’m not here as a warlock, I’m here as Isabelle Lightwood’s representation.” 

Alec swallowed. He wasn’t used to seeing people talking like  _ that  _ to the Inquisitor, or to anyone with even a tiny bit of power. He’d been raised with people not being direct or talking up to his parents, the teachers… and here was Magnus Bane, a warlock, who stared right into the Inquisitor’s eyes and basically told her to fuck off in diplomatic speech. 

“Miss Lightwood has been sentenced, warlock, you’re not needed here anymore.” 

“Was she? Because I, as her representation, was not even aware that this assembly was taking place. Did you bother to check if someone wanted to represent her, or did you immediately go for the peloton d’exécution?” 

Alec stayed silent. Magnus had this all figured out. Alec would never admit how weak his knees felt when he saw the man act like this, stand so tall and look down on the Inquisitor herself. He swallowed as the woman stopped watching Magnus suspiciously for a second to sigh. 

“The girl has been found guilty by the Soul Sword. Unless you can prove a Mortal Instrument was compromised, warlock, I really believe you should leave.”

Magnus nodded. “Let’s take this to your office. Alone. As is procedure. Call off the exile, listen to the things I have to say to you. It won’t take you long, and you’ll be able to go back to your usual tasks. Besides, I’ve heard that my company is much appreciated. Your time will not be wasted.” 

Imogen Herondale stayed silent for a while, before turning to Alec. She watched him for a moment, her eyes cold and indecipherable. Alec held her gaze. He wasn’t going to stand down and let her take Izzy away, break their bond, without trying any solution, and the woman knew it. 

Imogen Herondale blinked and her eyes moved to look at Magnus. “Tomorrow, at 20:00, it is the only hour I have free for you, warlock,” she said coldly, then turned back to Alec. “Your sister will stay in a cell at the City of Bones until then. Without visits. The deruning ceremony is still scheduled for tomorrow at 21:00. I will advise you not to try to derail our judicial processes more, Mr. Lightwood. I would hate to have to put you under investigation for insubordination as well.” 

She nodded at them, and walked away. 

Alec wanted to go after her, grab her by the collar and  _ make her lift the sentence _ . He couldn’t. She was in the Inquisitor, and he personally couldn’t do something like assault. It would not work well for anyone if they managed to get easy off the hook only to have him deruned for assaulting the Inquisitor. 

He looked back at Magnus and nodded at him. Magnus had a small smile in reply. “It gives us more time to get the Cup. Any news from Clary or Jace?”

Alec shook his head. “Not yet, I’ll call them later.” 

 

\----------------

 

The next day, Magnus stood alone in one of the main corridors of the Inquisitor’s office building. He’d told Alexander not to come with him, it was unnecessary, since Alec was not going to be allowed in the office to actually discuss his sister’s fate. Besides, it gave him some time to call and try to reach Clary and Jace. 

He had no idea why he was actually doing this. He’d told himself he didn’t care about Shadowhunters anymore, that whatever happened to Alec Lightwood and his gang was out of his concern, and out of his life. But he guessed he just could not keep himself from helping desperate handsome men. 

Now he was risking… his own safety, his own work, by going to the Inquisitor’s office to plead a pardon for a guilty woman, in exchange for something he didn’t have. He hated this, he hated this a lot, but god, it kinda felt good to be back in the law. He hadn’t represented someone in centuries. 

The door to the Inquisitor’s office opened, and a young dark-haired naphil called him in. “My name is Damaris Penwater. I’m Inquisitor Herondale’s assistant. Madam Inquisitor will be with you shortly.” She said, and gestured for him to sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Magnus thanked him and sat down. 

A few minutes later, Imogen Herondale was walking through the door. It was 20:10 already, 10 minutes late into the meeting, and only 50 minutes away from Isabelle’s scheduled deruning ceremony. The Inquisitor nodded at him and refused to shake his hand, sitting down at her desk. 

“Let me start with voicing my surprise at seeing a Downworlder representing a Lightwood,” Herondale started, taking a folder from the pile next to her and opening it. There was a picture of Isabelle in it. 

“Isabelle is not Maryse, we both know that, Madam Inquisitor,” Magnus replied. “She’s proven to be quite unlike her mother, in many of the ways that concern someone like me.” 

“Her liking for Downworlders isn’t infamous, but I had only heard about her relationship with the Seelie Meliorn. I was unaware that she had taste for a warlock as well.” 

Magnus ground his teeth. He could feel the disgust of the woman in front of him, at the mere idea that Isabelle would be sleeping with not one but two “Downworlders” of different species that is. 

“I assure you that I have none of these ties with Isabelle Lightwood. Else I would not be sitting in front of you today. I believe in unbiased representation.” 

Unbiased, unbiased… Herondale didn’t have to know that he’d pursued Alexander. But well, Magnus was generally less biased than Lydia Branwell. She was, after all, Alec’s fiancée. 

“What are you offering, warlock? The girl’s guilty, and the Soul Sword cannot be compromised.” 

Magnus nodded. “She’s guilty, yes, but she’s only guilty of wanting to preserve the Accords. She was working in the interest of the Clave.”

“By going against orders? By making it impossible for the Silent brothers to get more information on future terrorist attacks from a Seelie? I do not call that the interest of the Clave, warlock, but it doesn’t surprise me that you have little idea what those words mean.” 

Magnus needed to stay calm. He had to. “Imogen,” he started, and the look on the woman’s face when he started using her first name was priceless. “Let’s talk honestly, for a moment. Isabelle Lightwood saved your ass. She saved you from dividing Shadowhunters and Shadow Kinds even more than we already are, at the very moment where we need to be united. Valentine Morgenstern is back. We both remember what happened the last time he was around.” 

“You have no proof the Seelies aren’t working with the Circle.” 

“I know you believe that Downworlders are not as smart and capable as Shadowhunters, and that’s a discussion for another day, but do you really think that any of us would ally with him? We know where we stand, and I’m sure the Seelie Queen stands on our side as well. Especially now that a Shadowhunter saved one of her knights. A knight who had been only telling the truth. Clarissa Morgenstern has the Mortal Cup.”

Imogen Herondale watched him with cold, unwavering eyes, and Magnus stared right back at her. He knew he was right, and he knew his arguments were maybe not Clave-logical but they were logical.

“She’s still guilty of High Treason. No matter what her intentions were, Magnus Bane, I cannot suddenly say that she was right. We cannot afford to have insubordination of that level not be punished.” 

“Then punish her. Put her on house arrest, night patrols, potato peeling duty, whatever humiliating task you can imagine, but do not give Valentine Morgenstern more ammunition, by turning the Seelies and the rest of the Shadow Kinds against the Clave. The Lightwoods may not be beloved, but Isabelle Lightwood has a good reputation, and a good ear, in many of the Shadow People’s authorities.” 

“I cannot pardon her without her giving me something in exchange. It is not how the Angel’s justice works,” Herondale replied firmly. “We have laws, warlock, we have order to uphold. It is not simply a question of my wishes.” 

“Inquisitor… You are the very pillar of the Clave Justice system. Your voice counts over any other Shadowhunter’s. If you decided to pardon Isabelle Lightwood, everyone would follow you.”

“Or overthrow me for going against the established order. I need more than the empty reassurance of a warlock.” 

Magnus sighed and looked at the woman in front of him. “Would the Mortal Cup be enough?”

Imogen Herondale’s eyes widened a little, and she shifted in her seat. Magnus knew he had her interest. Nothing like dangling a shiny Mortal Instrument in front of a Clave official. Though now, Alec had to actually get the Cup from Clary and Jace, who were Allah-knows-where and weren’t responding to calls.

 

\-----------------------

 

Tonight, Renwick’s seemed much quieter than the night before. Clary watched the old factory’s door. It was strange, a little, that the thousands of demons that had seemed to inhabit the building last night were gone. As if Valentine, or the demons, knew they had visited the place. 

“Maybe they saw us and all left,” she whispered, and Luke shook his head. 

“I was careful. No one saw us, and I masked our scents. It’s impossible for them to know we were there, unless someone told them. And I doubt Michael or Jace would.” 

Jace shook his head immediately in denial. Clary nodded. This was strange. Everything was strange. Michael had known about her mother being pregnant with her, a year before she’d been pregnant. And Michael seemed so… gentle. It was hard to reconcile this man with the father who’d killed Jace’s falcon without a thought. Maybe years of torture had changed him but… 

Clary didn’t know how to feel about Michael Wayland. Or about the way Jace acted around him. It almost reminded him of how Izzy was around her mother, always trying to show the best face, to show her abilities. Jace was doing that exactly. He was talking big, showing off, trying to please his father so much. When Luke and Clary had decided to go scout Renwick alone, she’d seen the way Jace looked at his father, expecting some sort of reaction from him. 

“He wants to draw us in. Force Clary to use the Cup.” 

How did Michael know all those things about Valentine’s plans, about the way his mind worked? So many years spent with Valentine could have taught him some things, but Clary doubted Michael was privy to every single conversation. 

“Well, we’ll see about that, alright?” she mumbled, and they walked up to the door. 

As they got out of the cover of the bushes, Circle members started to walk out of the building. Here came trouble, she guessed. She grabbed her seraph blade and got ready for a fight. She wasn’t perfectly trained yet, but maybe she could at least help. She hadn’t trained really since she’d left the Institute. It had been what? A week? More? Probably more. She looked at the date on her phone. April 16th. It had been 9 days. 

Jace pushed her to the side and yelled at her to go get her mother. She watched for a couple of seconds as Luke, Michael and Jace fought off the Circle members, before running into the building. 

She was barely through the door when Jace’s phone started vibrating. He’d put it on silence, something Clary still had to do, Alec was right. She almost smiled at the realization of what she’d just thought. She grabbed the phone and took the call, seeing it came from Izzy’s phone. 

“Izzy? It’s Clary, I’m at Renwick’s trying to find my mom,” she whispered. 

“It’s Alec. Have you been getting my texts?” 

She looked at the texts for a second and sighed. There were dozens and dozens of distressed texts from Alec’s number, talking about the Mortal Cup and how Izzy needed it to… fuck fuck fuck. 

“Is she okay?” 

“She’s been sentenced to exile, Clary, we don’t have a lot of time, you have to come back.” 

“Alec, I found Valentine. You have to delay everything, I can’t come right now.”

“Fuck, Clary, I know you want to find your mother, but Izzy’s going to get deruned!” 

Clary could hear the despair and anger in the man’s voice. “I’ll do what I can, okay?” 

“Magnus’ talking to the Inquisitor right now, but you really have to hurry. The deruning ceremony is in 35 minutes.” 

“I’ll try.” Was all that Clary replied. She turned a corner and stopped listening to the swear words and pleas that Alec was making. They faded into the background. The only thing that mattered was her. She could see her. She could see her mom. 

Her thumb found the “end call” button, and she started running, running to her. She was floating, she was asleep, but it was her. Her mom. Unharmed. She thought. She was floating, and Clary shook her but she didn’t wake up. 

“Mom?” 

She looked peaceful, almost. The green glow that surrounded her felt weird against Clary’s kin. It itched almost, as if it tried to prevent her from touching Jocelyn. “Mom,” she repeated, but there was no answer, not even a twitch. It was as if Clary wasn’t there.

“Please wake up.” She whispered, and there was still nothing. She was wearing the same clothes she’d been wearing the night of Clary’s birthday. Everything was the same as the night of Clary’s birthday. Her hair, makeup, jewelry, everything. All except the bright red circle rune on her neck. The one like Hodge’s. And Michael’s. Circle rune. Circle member. Valentine had claimed her back as his. Clary wanted to puke. 

There were rushed footsteps behind her, and she turned, seeing Michael and Jace running towards her. They rushed into the room and closed the door behind them. Clary’s brain seemed to be working again suddenly. 

“Where’s Luke?” She asked. They’d left him behind? That wasn’t possible. That wasn’t right. 

“We left him fighting Blackwell,” Jace replied, and Clary wanted to scream at him. Jace probably got that she was against the fact that they’d left him behind because he immediately explained. “Luke told us to leave him, Clary.”

Demons were snarling and screeching outside of the door, and Clary heard the distinctive sound of a rune being burnt into something. Probably a locking rune on the door. Michael and Jace started walking away, and Clary launched herself towards the door, towards the outside. She’d underestimated the fact that Jace hadn’t put his guard down. 

“What are you doing? Get back!” He grabbed her and physically kept her from getting to the door, dragging her back towards where Jocelyn was. 

“Jace, we cannot shut Luke out! He has to make it inside!” She couldn’t lose Luke, she couldn’t let him be torn apart by demons. He was the only father she’d ever known, the only person she had right now. The only person who hadn’t changed. “He’s my father!”

“No, Clary!” Michael interjected, stopping for a moment. He seemed to think about what to say next. “there is not enough time.” What? “We have to secure the room,” he finished. “We don't even know if Luke is still-”

“Alive? Jace, no. You have to tell him! We cannot shut Luke out! He will die for nothing! I can't wake her up.” She couldn’t stop talking, she couldn’t stop pleading. Jace’s grip was hard on her arms, and she would have bruises, but she couldn’t stop moving towards the door, trying to get to it, as if it would change anything for her to be out there. 

“Luke wants you and Jocelyn out of here. That's all he cares about,” Michael said, and Clary didn’t want to believe him. She didn’t want to not have Luke anymore, she didn’t want for him to die like this, for her, for him to sacrifice himself, it was wrong. 

“Pull yourself together,” Michael said and Clary saw red. 

“MY FATHER IS OUTSIDE, MICHAEL!” She screamed at him and fought harder, but she wasn’t strong enough. Jace was stronger, Jace was keeping her away from Luke, and he was going to die. 

“Clary, if you don't help us, no one survives,” Jace tried to convince her, and she could feel herself weaken, she could feel her strength faltering. “Do you understand? We will get your mother home. We will find a way to wake her up. Do you believe me?” 

She didn’t know if she did. But she guessed that… Luke was maybe still alive outside. If she stopped the demons using the Cup, he would maybe survive. She shoved Jace back with one big push, and he stumbled back. Long enough for her to grab the Cup in her back. 

She felt the power in her body, she felt the awakening of strength, the boiling in her blood, just like the first time. She felt bigger and stronger and more powerful than she’d ever felt, and her pain and anger seemed to increase tenfold, fill her body up, until the Cup glowed so bright that it was almost blinding. 

“Demons, I command you!” She shouted, and her voice seemed to echo through the walls. “Stop hurting Luke Garroway!” 

She had no idea if it was actually working, but she hoped it was. And now to the big part. 

“Demons, find Valentine!”

The demons started banging on the doors and the walls, trying to get in almost desperately. Maybe they weren’t listening. She shouted again, and again, but nothing changed, there seemed to be no new direction. 

“Is it not working?” Jace said worriedly, walking closer to Clary. 

Clary shook her head. “I don’t understand.” If finding Valentine wasn’t working, then Luke was probably already dead. This couldn’t be true. 

“Find Valentine!” She screamed again. 

This time, a demon managed to pierce through a small crack in the door. It launched towards where Michael Wayland was standing and tried to attack him. A second demon followed and did the exact same. Jace launched himself into defending his father. Clary felt her heart stop. 

“Demons, stop! Leave this room.” The demons retreated almost immediately. She swallowed. It couldn’t be. It really couldn’t be. “Find Valentine!” They immediately rushed to Michael Wayland again. 

“Jace, get back!” She screamed. “Demons, retreat!”

They were alone again. 

“Clary, what’s happening?” Jace asked, and Clary just pulled him close to her, putting some distance between them and Michael Wayland.

“Jace, I don’t think this is your father,” she whispered. 

Michael Wayland sighed. “It took you less time than I expected, Clarissa.” He said, grabbing the seraph blade, and cutting through the rune on his arm. It was a glamour rune. Clary’s heart stopped. 

“No,” Jace whispered next to her. “Please no. Please no;”

The man’s skin shifted, starting from the rune, and propagating to his whole body. He was a bit less tall, and a bit wider. His hair disappeared, and Clary recognized the man on the wanted list, recognized the man she’d seen in dreams, and maybe even in the other dimension, even if her memories of that time were fuzzier by the second. 

“Valentine,” she whispered. 

The man smiled. “You’re as smart as your mother, my dear Clarissa.” 

Clary looked away from the man, and at Jace. Jace was… she’d never seen him like this. She’d never seen that type of hatred and anger on anyone before. She wanted to comfort him, but she didn’t touch him. She knew better than to touch someone who was in such a state of emotional distress. 

“Should I let the demons take care of him?” She asked him and he shook his head. 

“Send them away. He's mine.” Jace’s voice resounded with pure pain and hatred, and so she sent the demons away. 

Jace turned to Valentine. “You pretended to be my father.”

“I wasn't pretending, Jonathan. Never.” Fuck, Valentine’s voice seemed almost sweet, almost tender, and Clary wanted to puke. 

“You murdered him. You're a liar!” Jace hissed as he walked closer. His seraph blade got uncomfortablly close to Valentine’s neck, but the man didn’t move, didn’t fight back, he just spoke, quietly almost. 

“I am your father. I always have been. The face that you saw as Michael Wayland was mine. Then and now. It was a powerful glamour. I want you to know me as I am. To know the truth about me and you.”

It somehow seemed to make Jace falter, and that couldn’t happen. Clary saw the way his arm slacked a little, the way he moved the seraph blade away. “Jace! Jace, don't listen to him! He's my father. We know that for a fact.”

Valentine nodded. “Yes, that's true. That's a fact. I am your father, Clary. And Jace's.”

What? No. No, it wasn’t possible, it just wasn’t. There was no… In the alternate dimension, Clary had had a brother. And she couldn’t remember if he wasn’t actually Jace. Fuck, it almost made sense. No. It couldn’t be true. 

“Think about it. Why are the two of you so drawn together? You are meant to be. Blood calls to blood, no?” 

Something in Jace seemed to snap, and he stopped threatening Valentine with his seraph blade. It was a bad move, but Clary just couldn’t… she didn’t know what to think. She had a brother. A brother who was Jace. Who she already felt so close to. Valentine’s words rang true. They had a bound, a bound that had been there since the first day, a bound that was undeniable.

“My dear family together at last. A lost mother found. A brother and sister, finally united.” Valentine said as he walked towards a simple mirror, and activated a portal. 

Jace growled an inhuman scream and launched himself at the man. In a second, Valentine had him disarmed and at his mercy. 

“Oh, Jonathan. I told you–you were too weak,” he hissed in Jace’s ear. 

Clary looked at the fear and confusion on Jace’s face. She didn’t understand what was going on, she just didn’t, it made sense and no sense at once.

“You won't kill him,” she said, and she wished her voice didn’t shake the way it did. 

“I won’t. If you give me the Cup.” 

“I can’t,” Clary replied. “I won’t.”

“Really? Well, then I will kill your brother, take your mother, and go back to where my pet warlock is waiting for me. Dorothea… she wanted to protect you, you know? She tried to warn you, but she failed. Now, she’s under my control. Poor thing.”

“Leave them alone!”

“Give me the Cup, Clarissa! And come with me. We can rule this together. I know you’ve always wanted to know your father…” 

She couldn’t give him the Cup. But what if it meant that she would never see her mother again? She couldn’t have Jace die, she couldn’t have Dot die, she couldn’t ruin everything now. She couldn’t lose everything she’d wanted to get back since the beginning. She needed her mother. What was the Cup worth? 

“Clary, don’t,” Jace whispered. 

She couldn’t lose Jace. She couldn’t lose her mother again. The Cup… who cared? Once she had her mom, she could just leave, and it wasn’t as if anything would happen. 

“If I give you the Cup, will you let me and my mom leave? And never come after us again?” 

Valentine made a face. “That doesn’t work for me. You’re my daughter, she’s my wife. You belong with me.” 

“I won’t give you the Cup if you don’t swear to leave us alone.” 

If he swore, then she would give him the Cup. She would give him the Cup, and she would leave with her mother, and everything would be normal again. She could go back to school, and forget this world existed. She could go back to her life. 

“Promise me!” She screamed. 

“You’ll always be a Shadowhunter. You’ll always be my daughter, this is what you were born to do. This is who you are. I know you can feel it in your blood.” 

_ I know you can feel it in your blood.  _ That was what Izzy had said the first day they’d spent together, before going to the City of Bones. Clary remembered the warmth of Izzy’s certitude, of Izzy’s reassurance. 

_ Izzy.  _

She looked up at Jace and tried to make him understand what she wanted him to do. She prayed he understood. She took a deep breath and walked up to Valentine. The Cup was heavy in her hand. 

She raised her hand and reached out to give the Cup to the man. To her father. Valentine loosened his grip on Jace, letting go of him so he could take the Cup from her. In a second, Jace had wiggled out of Valentine’s arms and pushed him through the portal he’d opened behind himself. 

The portal closed after Valentine’s passage. Clary felt like she was taking a breath for the first time in hours. For a second, Jace looked at her, but when she looked up, he started walking out of the building. 

Clary wanted to run after him, and tell him that it was okay, that everything was going to be fine, but she didn’t know what to think either. She didn’t know what to think or feel, she didn’t know if they could even trust Valentine’s word. 

And more than anything, they had to get to Izzy. It was more important than a discussion they could have later. They had Jocelyn, and now they needed to get the Cup. 

  
  


\-------------------

  
  


They came back to the Institute around 11 pm, and Alec felt like his limbs were heavier than they had ever been before. He couldn’t stop hugging Izzy, he couldn’t stop holding her close. He was terrified of losing her again. He wouldn’t let what just happened happen again, no matter what. He let go of her with a kiss on her forehead, and grabbed Jace away from the rest of the pack. 

“We need to talk,” Alec said to his brother as a greeting. He hadn’t seen Jace in days. They’d seen each other before the failed Meliorn op, then quickly during it, when they’d fought and Jace had revealed the way he felt about Alec being… someone who liked men. 

Now, he had no idea how to really feel about his brother. He loved him, of course, because he was his goddamn brother. But he’d betrayed him, then ran off with Clary while they needed him.

“We do. You gave us away. You betrayed us.” Jace’s voice was angry and Alec almost wanted to punch him. 

“Shut up.” Alec stopped him. “I was all alone, Izzy was going to get deruned, and you weren’t here. You were off, doing Angel knows what, with Clary. And Clary? She fucking hung up on me when I  _ begged  _ her to come back with the Cup to save Izzy!”

Clary and Jocelyn were settling in the training room now, and Alec could see Clary and Hodge talking quietly. How dare she even be here? She’d barely made it to the second assembly, to the verdict, she’d barely helped save Izzy’s life. 

“The Cup’s now with Lydia, in the safe, in our Institute,” Jace replied. “And Izzy’s fine.” 

“You nearly risked Izzy’s life, for what? Clary? Getting her mom back?” Alec hissed. “I almost lost my parabatai. I almost lost my sister!” 

Jace ground his teeth and glared at Alec. “She’s my sister too. She’s my sister, and I love her as much as you do, but fuck, Alec, we had my father, and then we had Jocelyn, and Valentine, almost! We were so close!”

Alec was about to tell him to go fuck himself, when his brain stuck on the “my father” part of Jace’s speech. He swallowed. “What about your father?” 

He could see the pain and sadness in Jace’s eyes. Guess it hadn’t ended well, or Michael Wayland would be standing here with them, or with Jocelyn. Alec stayed silent, waiting for Jace to speak up. 

“Meliorn took us to the Seelie Glade. There, we took a portal to another dimension, where the portal shard Clary wore came from. It allowed us to find where her mom was, except she wasn’t there anymore. What was there, was my father. Michael.” 

Alec allowed him to continue the rest of the story, up until the reveal. He took a step back then. Jace was the son of Valentine. Clary’s brother. He blinked and shook his head. “Jace, that’s not possible.” 

“I saw him, deglamour himself. I saw my dad’s face morph into Valentine’s, and all he said was true. It felt true. Clary and I… We’ve had a bond since the very beginning. I guess it turns out it always ran deeper than we thought.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

It didn’t excuse that Jace hadn’t been there for Izzy, but it softened Alec’s anger. It was a lot to take in, too. Clary, Jace… Valentine. How everything seemed to fit together somehow, how they had seemed to click so easily. They’d been made to be close, the way Alec and Izzy were. 

And now… they had the Cup. They had Jocelyn, and they had Izzy, and everything was fine, for once. They could all take a breather. Thanks to Magnus Bane. Alec needed to thank him. Say goodbye to him, and to his bow and arrow, and face the future. The future was his marriage with Lydia, that was definitely going to be rushed after all of this. 

Alec didn’t really know how to feel about Lydia anymore. Yes, the marriage made sense, and yes, she’d run up to him to apologize, almost beg for his forgiveness, once Izzy had been pardoned, but he couldn’t forget the coldness in her eyes when she’d reminded her she was the one in power in their dynamic. 

He sighed and let Jace go, clapping him on the shoulder lightly. Jace had a bunch of stuff to deal with. And Alec too. He had to go see Magnus.

 

\------------------

 

Clary sat at her mom’s side in the training room, even after Hodge was gone. Jace came to talk to her, but there was something uneasy about the way they interacted right now as if they were still dealing with the fact that they were more than people who’d found each other and become friends less than a month ago. 

She stared at the sleeping form of her mom and tried not to think about everything. About how she’d been so close to giving the Cup to Valentine. After all, Izzy could have easily lived as a mundane, Clary had succeeded for a good 18 years. But she guessed she just… couldn’t have left her behind. Clary’s world, Clary’s family was so big and yet felt so small lately. 

She had her mom back. She still had Luke. Simon… she had him, at least partly, and she felt like she had him way less than she used to have him. But she had Jace too. And Isabelle. And, distantly, Alec, though she doubted either of them would really be friends. 

There were steps, the tapping of heels on the stairs coming up to the training room. It was Izzy. She was still wearing the simple blue dress she’d been wearing when Clary and Jace had arrived at the deruning ceremony. She looked more and more tired,–as if she was going to fall apart any minute. 

“Hey,” Izzy whispered and walked to stand next to Jocelyn, and not far from Clary. 

“Hey,” Clary replied, and she felt a bit of guilt for almost condemning her to a life away from her family. Clary understood that. After all, she’d turned Simon so they would have a life together, in this world, and so that she wouldn’t be alone. She kinda guessed it was the same thing. 

“So. You found your mother,” Izzy said softly, looking at the sleeping woman. 

“I did.” 

“Everyone’s right. You look a lot alike, the two of you,” Izzy pointed out with a smile,  reaching to replace a lock of hair on Jocelyn’s shoulder. 

“I guess so,” Clary shrugged and looked at the two women. Her mother, and… Isabelle. She didn’t know if she loved Isabelle. She probably didn’t. But she felt warm when she thought about her, and she enjoyed every minute spent in her company. 

“I heard you found a lot more than just your mom, out there.” 

Clary huffed. That was the understatement of the century. “Yeah. So turns out, I have a brother.” 

Izzy chuckled. “You get used to those. I have three of them, and they can get really annoying, but they take so much space in your life…” 

Clary nodded and sighed a little, not knowing what else to say. She didn’t know if she could keep her hesitation when it came to the Mortal Cup a secret from Izzy, not for long anyway. But Izzy had gone through so much. 

“I couldn’t lose you,” she whispered. “When I was given a choice, give Valentine the Cup, or take it back to the Clave… eventually, I chose the Clave. I chose you.” 

Izzy hesitated a second, before nodding. “I’ll forever be grateful. You almost sacrificed your mother, for me.” 

Clary shook her head. “I don’t think I sacrificed her, but… The choice was harder than I thought it would be.” She didn’t watch Izzy’s reaction to that, she just listened as silence settled in the room for a short moment. 

“One thing you learn, when you become a Shadowhunter, is that choices are always hard to make. No matter the choice, when it comes down to it,” Izzy explained. “You made a choice. And even if I doubt you wish to go back and change what you did, you can’t.  Move on, and accept it. That’s the truth of what life as a Shadowhunter is. It’s death, and it’s choices that keep you awake at night.” 

“You don’t regret breaking Meliorn out?” 

Izzy had a small chuckle. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I have been asked that question lately,” she joked, before shaking her head. “No, I don’t. I don’t regret it for a second. And you know, it turned out great. Turns out I have a guardian angel.”

Clary raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Izzy nodded, and shrugged, making her way back to the door. “Yes. You,” she said, before leaving Clary alone with her mother again.

 

\------------------

 

Lydia wasn’t in the Head of Institute office, and Magnus was glad for that. He didn’t want to see her right now. Especially after that circus, the circus of begging for Alexander’s forgiveness after the derailed deruning ceremony.  Magnus disliked the woman, and not only because she was marrying the man he had views on, but because she didn’t seem like the best of people either way.

Right now, all he wanted was to go home, wash the glares of Clave members off of his skin, and see if he could pop open a bottle of red and have some mani-pedi time with Catarina. Ragnor was still holed up in England somewhere, Dot was… gone, and Raphael was probably not up for mani-pedis, now that he had a newborn to take care of. Magnus really hoped Catarina would be free. 

The door closed behind him, and he hadn’t even realized someone had come up. He turned to face the newcomer. Alexander. Looking tired, but considerably more relaxed than he’d had recently. He was carrying a bow and quiver, and Magnus swallowed. Ah yes. The payment. 

“As promised, your payment in full,” the man said, before giving the weapon to him.  Magnus didn’t really know what to do with these. He had never been really great with things like bows. He preferred blades. 

“Thank you.”

There was a heavy silence in the room, as Magnus and Alec just looked at each other. Magnus licked his lips and nodded afterwards, “I think my work is done here. I’m sure you have wedding preparations to attend to.” 

“I think I’ll be taking a break from that tonight.” 

Magnus nodded. “Wise decision,” he whispered. “Party prep is always a more taxing activity than one initially believes. I seem to always forget, myself.” 

“Right,” Alec replied. “You get it?”

“I do,” Magnus hummed. “But… Alexander, you don’t have to marry her.” 

He could see the frustration in the man’s eyes suddenly, and Alec moved from the soldier at ease pose he’d had since the beginning. 

“Yes, I do, Magnus,” he replied. “I’ve told you that. This is not up for debate again.” 

“You'll be lonely all your life, and so will she,” Magnus insisted nevertheless. He knew what it was like, not to be happy. To be stuck in a situation where there was no way out, and to feel like your duty or honor kept you from getting away. He knew the kind of pressure Alec was under, and he just… he couldn’t let this go. 

This wasn’t about wanting the man anymore. This was about caring. Alexander Lightwood had made him care about his sake, about his future, and about his family, in a way that Magnus hadn’t seen coming. Alec had come into his life with wide desperate eyes, and Magnus just couldn’t let him resolve himself to a life of pain. 

“Neither of you deserve it,” he continued. “And I don't either.”

Alec watched him. “You have nothing to do with my marriage.”

“Don’t I?” Magnus replied. “You took my advice, and you misunderstood it. I’m just trying to repair my mistake. I should have been clearer.”

“You were perfectly clear. Do what’s in your heart, follow your heart. I’d thought you’d seen it today, and yesterday. You know where my heart is. My heart is with my family.”

Magnus pursed his lips but said nothing. He just walked up to the man and gave him back the bow and arrow. “I don't know what to do with these,” he admitted, in all honesty. “You keep them for me. They’re still mine, but I’m just lending them to you.” 

Alec nodded, and whispered a small thank you, that Magnus didn’t really pay attention too. He was already halfway through the door, and by the time Alec felt regret for watching him leave, he had already portalled back home.

 

\------------------

 

Her room in the Institute was too silent. Izzy had never realized how thick the walls were, and how the sounds from outside were muffled. And how there weren’t any Silent Brothers. She let her fingers trace the angelic power rune on her arm. It was still here. 

The bond with Alec was still here too. It had been so close, so close, she’d seen the deruning tool ready to burn off the marks before they kicked her out into the streets of New York. 

And suddenly, Clary and Jace had come in, offering the Cup in exchange for her pardon, as Magnus had negotiated with Imogen Herondale. She had had no idea any of this was happening, kept in a cell in the City of Bones, awaiting deruning. 

Of course, Jace, Clary and her were not really getting out unscathed. Izzy had mandatory shifts at the kitchen of the Institute, Jace was getting shadowed by a Clave official, ichor duty for six months, every 3 am patrol for three months, Clary was getting house arrest, ichor duty as well. The three of them were getting their steles and seraph blades locked away unless they were on official sanctioned missions, for two months. 

It was strict, but it was deserved. Izzy just wanted to be left alone, and if they let her lock herself in her bedroom as much as she wanted outside of her mandatory duties, she would be fine. There was a light knock on the door. 

“Come in!” She called out.

The door opened. Her brother slipped through the small opening, before closing the door behind him. She smiled softly at him. He looked tired, like the stress and fear from the last five days were downing on him suddenly. She understood. She’d just taken off what was left of her makeup, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed to threaten to take over her entire face. 

Zits were breaking out on her skin too, from not washing her face for too long, and she’d just had her first real shower in days. Alec walked up to her and sat on her bed, sighing softly.

“I’m okay,” she whispered before he could ask. “I am, Alec, I’m okay.” 

He took a deep, shaky breath, and nodded. “Good.” His hair was ruffled, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep. “Can I sleep here tonight?” He whispered. 

Izzy smiled tenderly and nodded. “Of course, big brother. As long as I am the big spoon.” 

Alec groaned. “It’s only because it’s you.” He kicked off his shoes and laid down on the mattress with a sigh, pulling her to him. 

Izzy let herself be pulled into his arm. There was nowhere she felt safer than in Alec’s arms. She remembered nights spent with him and Jace when they were teenagers, piled up in a too small bed for warmth and comfort. Jace always held onto them a little too tight, as if he was afraid of letting them go. Jace had a sister now. A real one, a blood one. 

“What time is it?” Alec asked before turning off the light. 

“1 am.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 15 - Malec Part 1
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	15. Malec Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again!
> 
> Time for a wedding! Everyone should be happy, right?
> 
> Enjoy!

The Institute was bustling with energy. Jace guessed he couldn’t really blame everyone. A wedding was a bit of an occasion. He disliked having so many people around right now, when they were all so emotionally vulnerable. And when he was being trailed around the Institute by some… kid. 

Okay, he wasn’t a kid. Jonathan - yet another Shadowhunter named Jonathan - was only two years younger than Jace. He was perfectly in accord with Lydia Branwell and the Clave, and of course they would choose someone like him to trail him. At least he didn’t sleep in his room.

It had been what? 24 hours? And Jace already couldn’t deal with it. He sighed and focused on repeating the exercises Hodge had given him to do. Clary was supposed to join him at some point. Jace would look over her warm-up before she started her exercises with Hodge again. He didn’t want to do that. He had no idea what to do with Clary being around now. 

It wasn’t as if he had been in love with her, or something, of course not. She wasn’t interested in men, anyway. And though he did find that idea hot, well, he just hadn’t really thought of her that way. He just liked her. She was like him. And now it turned out that she was much more like him than he’d initially believed.

Maybe he just couldn’t look at Clary because she was the reminder that her parents weren’t the people he thought they were. His father wasn’t a man who had been killed for wanting to leave the Circle. His father was Valentine Morgenstern, and his mother was Jocelyn Fairchild, and she’d abandoned him, pushed him away, left him alone to be brought up by Valentine. 

His mother hadn’t wanted him. No one wanted him. His father had been so ready to kill him without remorse, just a day and a half ago, right after having been reunited with him. His sister, he had a sister now, a blood one, and they couldn’t look at each other in the eyes. And Alec and Izzy, curled up on each other… closing up to the outside world, again, as they did when either of them was wounded. 

He sighed and stood back up from the floor, grabbing a towel, and telling Hodge he needed to go. They’d transformed one of the empty rooms into a makeshift training center, now that Jocelyn was being kept in the actual one, so Jace had to walk past the Head of Institute office - where Lydia’s blunt voice was resounding higher than ever. He shook his head. This woman was really going to be his sister-in-law? If he could still call Alec brother. That wasn’t that clear, after the night before. 

“The cobalt blue,” Izzy’s voice resounded not far from him. “It's elegant, masculine very Alec.”

Angel. That was actually very true, but it was just a goddamn wedding. And Izzy was putting her entire energy into it, like it was the only thing that mattered to her life. Like they didn’t have bigger demons to hunt. Jocelyn was still asleep, and Valentine was still out there. 

“I'll put the cobalt blue out right away,” Hepzibah replied. She was a Shadowhunter they’d been to the Academy with, and who’d always been in Izzy’s group of friends, along with Aline Penhallow. 

Jace managed to catch Izzy’s attention, and nodded at her. “All of you realize that the wedding is scheduled to be in five days right? Flowers and colors-”

“Should have been decided months ago, except we both know neither the engagement or the courting went according to tradition,” Izzy replied, shrugging. “Besides, Alec isn’t the type to worry about that kind of thing. I am.”

Jace chuckled. “Yeah. And you’re just so into tradition. Traditional colors. Traditional flowers. Are you going to make Alec wear gold? Good luck with that.” 

Izzy took a deep breath. “Jace… After everything that happened… I was pardoned, but people are never going to forget. I’m always going to be Isabelle Lightwood, the Seelie-fucker, so can I just enjoy planning a wedding?”

Jace fell silent for a moment. He didn’t know how to react to that. He did know that Izzy would find someone to love her eventually, but she was also right about the fact that they were going to have a hard time to find her a suitable husband.

“You’re right. Besides, we haven't had a wedding here in years,” Jace pointed out. “People are allowed to be excited.”

Izzy smiled at him thankfully. They walked over to the ops room. Their shadows followed them from a distance. Jace almost groaned at that.

“How are you doing?”

“Honestly?” Jace asked, and Izzy nodded, in that firm, expecting manner of hers. “I feel like a truck just ran me over.”

Izzy had a small, sad chuckle. “I get it’s just a lot to take in. Your mom, your dad, your sister...”

“That’s just it, Izzy. I had a mom, I had a dad, I had a sister, AND two brothers,” Jace replied, running a hand through his hair. “I had you. You, Alec, Max, Maryse and Robert. I even had Michael. I wasn’t looking for anyone else. Yes, I wanted to avenge my blood parents, but I had a family, and now it’s like I have…. No one.”

Izzy grabbed his arm. “Jace, look at me.” 

He did. There was a fire in her eyes, something he liked to see. Something that felt protective and comforting, and fuck, he missed his sister. It hadn’t been that long, but he was so lost right now. So lost. “I’m sorry for not being at your prosecution,” he whispered and she shushed him.

“Shut up,” she replied. “I don’t blame you. I don’t, Jace, never,” she promised. Jace swallowed. She continued. “You have me. You have us. You may have a bigger family than expected, but you still have all of us, that’s not going to change any time soon. Your family just expanded. You didn’t lose us.”

Jace nodded softly. “I’m going to find him. And kill him.”

“I know,” Izzy replied, nodding. “I know you will.”

“We need to talk to Alec. Make some plans,” Jace looked over at where the two shadowhunters who were watching them were standing, just a couple of feet behind. Fuck, that was going to be hell to deal with.

 

\----------------

 

Clary was feeling the burn of the work-out. She actually didn’t hate it anymore. She used to feel like Hodge was almost doing it on purpose, pushing her too far, but now, she relished in the grind, the effort. She could feel the difference, and how easily her body seemed to fit in this regimen. 

Hodge wasn’t the kind of trainer who praised you. Clary understood the way it fit into the Shadowhunter training and education model. People didn’t get praises, excellence was expected, and if you did less than expected, then you failed. There was no real success. Only expectations and failure.

She guessed she could almost understand what made everyone so different. Even now that she had her mom back, she could only think of two things. Waking her up, and killing Valentine. She could put “waking her up” in the “getting her mom back” bag.

Her train of thought was stopped by a knock on the door, and entrance in the room of the man she still didn’t really understand. Alec. He was so strange to her, so foreign. The only time they could have connected had been right as she was about to find her mother, and her mind hadn’t even really listened to what he was saying.

She remembered the despair in his voice, though. The way he was standing now, arms crossed and not knowing what to say made her believe he knew she remembered that he was human too, no matter what he wanted to pretend.

“How’s your mother?” Alec asked, voice slightly less emotionless than usual.

“I don’t know. She looks like she’s doing okay. There’s no real way to know,” Clary shrugged, standing up from where she’d been doing crunches.

“Alec, I know you and I don't always see eye to eye on things... Actually, we never see eye to eye on anything, but I do want to thank you for everything you've done to get my mom back.”

Alec waved her concern away. “I was just doing my job. Jocelyn is a Shadowhunter. We protect our own.” He said those words as if he meant them, but after what had happened to Izzy, they both knew there were more empty words of allegiance than anything else.

The Clave was ruthless when it came to preserving the one thing they respected more than anything else: itself. The life of Shadowhunters, their duty, their oaths, the Law even, nothing really mattered if it didn’t go with the preservation of the Clave, and the Council and all those who were on it.

The Inquisitor, the Consul, they worked for themselves, and for their own ideals. Not for the greater good of the Shadow World. Clary could see it clear enough, but only because she hadn’t been born in it. Had she been raised alongside Alec and Izzy and Jace, she would be like them. She would believe, and she would follow.

“I’m sorry, about hanging up on you when you asked me for the Cup,” Clary added.

“Actually I should thank you,” Alec said, taking a step towards her. Thank her? Clary raised a curious eyebrow. “You returned the Cup, even if it could have cost you your mother’s life. You saved my sister, my parabatai. So, thank you.”

Clary almost didn’t like that. The thanking. It wasn’t really Alec, it wasn’t really their relationship. She appreciated it, yes, of course, but she guessed she preferred dealing with the drier, colder version of Alec.

“Is getting married really making you this much softer?” She teased, and he had a small smile. It was more sad than anything.

“I have to go. I have to find Lydia, and reach out to some warlocks regarding your mother. I have an appointment with Magnus Bane tomorrow.”

Clary nodded, understand the lack of reply. It was a thorny subject. She understood, at least partly, what he could feel. She didn’t know how she would react to having to marry a man, to save her family. She probably would refuse. She wouldn’t do something like this, if it was only to safeguard her family’s political status. For their lives? Maybe she would, but not for something so trivial as social status.

She watched the man leave. Now they had to find the right warlock who could wake up her mother. She wished she knew how to reach Dot. Since she’d been the one, supposedly, to give the potion to her mom, she might have an idea of how to break the spell and wake her up.

 

\-------------------

 

The dress was dark gold. It was supposed to be a happy dress, a dress she would wear proudly. Not for her own wedding, but… Izzy had been saving this dress for an occasion. The party for Max’ rune ceremony, Jace’s wedding… She’d never thought she would wear it to Alec’s wedding. 

She ran her hand over the fabric. It was soft. One of the softest things she’d ever touched. It shone in a certain metallic way that she loved. It was a happy dress, and she was wearing it for Alec’s wedding to a woman he didn’t love.

She hadn’t lied when she’d told Jace she was enjoying the preparations, but a part of her felt like she was preparing a funeral rather than a wedding. Yes, Hepzibah and other Shadowhunters seemed to be looking forward to the celebration. Izzy wasn’t. She didn’t trust Lydia, and she didn’t want Alec to marry her.

It was nothing to celebrate. Her brother sacrificing himself so that maybe the family name wouldn’t be branded with the glaring red of the Circle rune their parents had worn, it wasn’t a good thing. Especially not after the High Treason charges on her name. The Lightwood name had too much, and one wedding to a Branwell wasn’t going to erase enough of the stains.

She wanted to tell Alec that it wasn’t worth it anymore, but she knew better. He needed her to stop going against him right now. Jace could be the one to fight him, but he needed his sister, his parabatai, by his side. If there was a mourning to be had, then they needed to do it together.

So she planned his wedding, and she busied herself almost imagining herself being the one married. It was so unlikely to happen now. She never regretted sleeping with Meliorn, it wasn’t the point. She regretted that the society of the Clave saw it as wrong, when she showed even a bit of emotion towards him.

A Shadowhunter girl was supposed to marry a man and perpetuate his family name, give the Clave more soldiers to fight the fight against demons. Not care for a Seelie.

Izzy sighed and put the dress on a hanger, hanging it on the door of her wardrobe. This was for later. She turned back to her reflection in the mirror, seeing the seriousness in her eyes. She didn’t know where the old her was. It had been a month, almost, and it had changed everything.

Now she was supposed to be serious and responsible, and work harder to clean her own name. She was supposed to write perfect reports, carry out perfect missions, and let herself be followed everywhere by the woman who had been tasked to be her shadow for the next few months.

The woman was standing outside of her bedroom at this very moment. Izzy’s stele and bracelet were locked away in the armory, outside of her reach, and outside of her clearance. She felt almost naked without them.

She knew Jace felt like this as well. She wondered what Clary felt like. Clary hadn’t been a Shadowhunter for long enough to be used to steles and blades and signature weapons. Maybe she felt like this when she didn’t have material to draw. Izzy hadn’t seen Clary draw in a long time.

She still couldn’t believe Clary had almost risked her mom’s life - the one thing she’d been constantly working towards ever since they’d met - for her. Izzy was grateful. She was also incredibly confused by the way Clary seemed to care about her. And about how Izzy seemed to care about Clary.

She felt warm and safe around her, like she was never going to judge her. Clary was beautiful, and Izzy didn’t have any idea what to do with that fact. She didn’t know what it meant. She felt around him the way she felt around Meliorn. Or maybe even different. But it was akin to her feelings towards Meliorn.

And lately, she’d started to think her feelings towards Meliorn were in the romantic category.

She couldn’t love a woman. She wasn’t supposed to. Izzy had maybe desired women before, but… not felt warm towards them. She’d loved Aline, but not in that way. Maybe a little in that way, but mostly as a friend. She’d kissed her, maybe. Once. Her first kiss. And she had liked it, in the same way she liked when men kissed her.

It wasn’t possible for her to like kissing both, right? It was… People didn’t do that. There were those like Aline or Alec or Clary, who loved their own sex, and there were those like everyone else, who loved the other sex. Both wasn’t possible.

She must not like women. It wasn’t possible. She knew she liked men, and she’d always liked men. And she took pleasure in having sex with them, a lot of pleasure. She couldn’t imagine having more pleasure with a woman.

Izzy shook her head and swallowed. She had stuff to do, she had no time to be asking herself these questions. Work to do, a wedding to plan, search for a way to awaken Jocelyn Morgenstern, rsvps to put together, rooms to prep, meals to coordinate. She had no time to think about being something she could not be.

 

\----------------

  
  


How long was Magnus going to pretend that he didn’t care about the Shadowhunters? He tried not to, he really did try, but no matter how far he pushed them away, they seemed to always be closer. They’d been getting closer ever since he’d met them for the first time at Hardtail. 

First, Alec Lightwood with his eyes that were too dead for someone his age, and how he lit some kind of fire under Magnus’ skin despite the fact he was a naphil. Then, Clary Fairchild, the daughter of a woman who had never been truly good, but good enough not to want her child to be her father’s daughter, the one who was too mundane to fit within the ranks of the nephilim, but who was too nephili to be mundane. 

And Isabelle Lightwood, a woman of grace and pride, and occasional misguided sentiments. Magnus didn’t know her well, but he knew the way Alec Lightwood cared for her, enough to beg a warlock for help in times where Shadowhunters tended to choose their own. 

And now here he was again. Inviting Alexander into his home because he knew the man needed help, and not only with waking Jocelyn Fairchild. There were still a few days before his wedding. And Allah, Magnus had told himself that he would stop pursuing a man who seemed not to want to be himself, but he couldn’t help it. He’d always had too big of a heart, and too much an instinct to help all.

The wards opened as the door of his apartment also did. The man was there.

“Hello Magnus?” Alexander’s voice resounded in the living room. “You said you were available.”

Magnus took a sip of his wine and finished tidying around his bedroom. He hadn’t really made the effort to dress up, only wearing lounging pants and a robe, with some eyeliner - because he was not going to show his bare face to anyone - and his usual necklaces.

“Nice to see you, Alec,” he smiled, walking out of the room and snapping his fingers. The door behind him closed, and a glass of the same red wine he was drinking appeared in Alec’s hand. He thought this one would suit his taste more than the cocktails they’d drunk when Alexander had stayed the night.

“What-”

“You know how I hate to drink alone,” Magnus shrugged, as explanation for the sudden appearance of the glass. He almost saw the man hesitate before Alec put the glass down on the drink cart, and turned back to him.

“I didn't come here to drink.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. He would have preferred talking to the man in a more casual manner, and a glass of wine always brought the casual into a business conversation. He sighed.

“Of course. You came here for information on the warlock who cast a spell on Jocelyn?”

“Right,” Alec nodded.

Magnus sighed. “I am looking more into it, but for now my own contacts aren’t exactly fruitful. If you desire to conduct your own research, I’d recommend looking into warlocks that are powerful. Maybe even more than I am. 500 years old at the minimum, offspring of either Greater Demons, or Nephilim. I believe that Institutes have the permission to go through the Greater Records. They are a bit out of date, but I think it should suffice for now. There hasn’t been a Greater Demon incursion in a century at least.”

The man in front of him nodded again, and Magnus could almost see him cataloguing the information.

There was a moment of silence, and Alec opened his mouth, surely to thank him and say goodbye. Magnus had other plans. “We never really finished our conversation after Izzy's pardon. About your wedding?”

Alec crossed his arms. “I thought we had. My wedding is none of your business.  I'm getting married. You and I, we understand marriage very differently,” his voice wasn’t full of emotion, not the way it had been the last few times they’d talked about marriage. It was as if he was repeating things he’d told others and himself too many times. Yes, Magnus understood marriage differently. For him, it was about love. About being able to have a family. Society had evolved, it wasn’t as if Alec couldn’t just stay single, if it was really about being with men. It didn’t have to be that way.

“I'm a Shadowhunter,” Alec continued. “This is about family, and tradition, honor-”

“Honor?” Magnus scoffed. “Where's the honor in living a lie?”

“What are you talking about?”

“What about love?” Magnus couldn’t help the flow of emotion in his tone. It wasn’t even about him not being able to fuck the man anymore. It was about Alec Lightwood hammering the nail into his own coffin. “Even Shadowhunters fall in love, Alec,” he said as he stepped closer to the man. Beautiful martyr of a man. “Just tell me you're in love with Lydia, and I'll stop.”

He was now close enough to see the way Alec’s eyes seemed to search for an answer anywhere but on Magnus’ own face. He avoided looking at him, he avoided looking into his eyes, because he knew Magnus was right. 

“I don't know,” Alec said. “Why do you keep pushing?” he stammered for an answer he couldn’t find, an answer that sounded like the truth, enough to stop both Magnus and himself. “You're confusing me.”

Alec was doing something wrong, and he knew it. He knew it was wrong for himself. But he just didn’t care enough about himself. That was what Magnus understood, as the man pushed past him and walked a little more towards the exit. What was right would mean that his family would be in even more trouble than it was. So Alec Lightwood chose what was wrong.

“Confusion is part of it,” Magnus tried, putting down the glass of wine. “That's how you find out if something's there. If my words didn’t make you doubt, then I would stop, but Alexander… you’re doubting.”

“I wouldn’t, if you didn’t try to make me doubt.”

“Emotions are never black and white,” Magnus added, and he was close to him again. If he reached just a tiny bit, he would feel the way the man’s heart beat in his chest. “They're more like symptoms.” The man wasn’t even trying to look away right now, and Magnus hoped that it meant he was listening.

He took a deep breath, and started walking around him, close. He could feel the nervous energy in the room, as well as his own desire to see the man turn to him and stop him, and be truthful. “You lose your breath every time they enter a room,” Magnus’ voice was soft, his words were calculated. He knew what romantic desire felt like, as much as he knew what sexual desire felt like.

He knew it because he felt it when he looked at this man. Sexual desire, maybe, and a desire to be closer, to be with him, to help him love himself every step of the way. Magnus snapped his fingers, magic rushing to make the man feel what he felt. “Your heart beats faster when they walk by.”

His steps took him behind the man, and he moved a little closer too. He saw Alec’s shoulders relax and tense up again, fast enough that he would have missed it had he blinked at that very moment. Magnus’ heart was beating in his own chest. He hadn’t even realized it. He was close, and he wanted closer. He wanted to see Alexander smile, and he wanted to feel his arms around him.

“Your skin tingles when they stand close enough to feel their breath,” he whispered, and his magic meddled with his breath. He felt Alec shudder next to him.

As he stood where he’d started his demonstration, Alec turned away. It was as if he refused to look Magnus in the eyes, look his own attraction, his own desires in the eyes. Maybe it hurt him, to be told that he could have Magnus, when he was so resolved never to have a man.

Magnus waited for a second. He was waiting for Alec to turn around and tell him that yes, it made sense, and no, he wasn’t going to sacrifice himself for nothing. Alexander turned around, and he stared right into Magnus’ eyes.

Magnus couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t let himself breathe, not when he was trapped in the stare of those beautiful hazel eyes. Eyes so resolute, so firm. They burnt with determination, and Magnus swallowed. He’d never seen this look in Alexander’s eyes before.

“I know you feel what I feel, Alec,” he said after a moment of silence, and he was so close just leaning up would have sufficed to kiss him.

Something changed in the way the man looked at him, and Magnus didn’t have time to put back the barriers he’d let down to show the other how he felt.

Alec scoffed. “You don't have any clue what I feel so back off.”

It was like a punch. Right in the gut. Was it another facade, another barrier from Alec, protecting him from stopping his own sacrifice? Or had Magnus… imagined it all?

He didn’t believe that he’d imagined the way the man looked at him, the way his voice resounded on the other side of a phone call, asking him if it was okay to be who they were. Something in how easily Alec had rejected him now, when Magnus was more vulnerable than he had been in years told another story. Magnus suddenly had doubts.

“This is all just a game to you, isn't it?” The words were almost poisonous as they came out of the man’s mouth, as he walked away from Magnus, with the scoff, the contempt almost, curled into his words. Magnus didn’t know what to believe.

“You flirt, you laugh, you use magic, but at the end of the day, what do you risk?”

_ My heart _ . Magnus wanted to reply, but he didn’t. He let the anger of the man wash over him and burn the things he’d felt. It was his own damn fault for breaking down his own walls to let Alexander in. He should have known better.

“Even if I did feel something for you…. you want me to give up my life for you?”

Magnus would never ask anyone to do anything for him. Alec needed this for himself, this wasn’t about Magnus. Not entirely at least. And the anger, the self-righteous anger in the man in front of him, that was hurting him. Because he saw what Alec believed he was. A seducer, a selfish person who only wanted to break apart his life only for his own fun.

“I have to do what's right for me. I could lose my family, my career, everything! You just don't get it.”

Magnus felt his heart beat normally again, as he watched the man’s anger, the man’s fear. It was out of his own hands. He’d done everything he could to help Alec Lightwood, now…

“You have a choice to make. You have four days before your wedding. I think you should use them to think.”

 

\-----------------------

 

Simon didn’t actually like that he was getting used to the Hotel DuMort. He was getting used to all of it, the people, the layout. He had his own window-less bedroom, his own casquet if he desired to use one, his own blood supply. He was even developing a preference in taste.

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that it made him feel warm when people laughed at his jokes here. He didn’t like how human they all were, even if they weren’t physically anymore. He didn’t like that Raphael said grace before drinking, he didn’t like that Lily played the violin at dusk every “morning”, or that Masego was a fervent collector of antique helmets from all corners of the earth.

They were normal, and it scared him that they weren’t more foreign. Yes, their diet was different. But they were normal, they had feelings, they loved people, they had habits and religion, and preferences. They were supposed to be monsters, and they were supposed to be horrible, and dead, and they weren’t.

Simon didn’t like it. He didn’t like that right now, they made more sense than Clary had made sense in the last few days. His phone rang, and he reached for it. Thinking of Clary…

“Hey, Clary. What's goin' on?”

“I just, uh, needed to hear your voice.”

Oh. Something was up. Simon had learned about the sudden reveal of Clary’s new extended family tree. “Are you okay? You sound upset.”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” he knew her way enough to tell she wasn’t. “Just things are kind of weird with Jace right now, but - we'll work it out.”

“Isn’t he happy? Aren’t you?”

There was a silence for a moment on the other side of the phone. “I don’t think so. I don’t know.” Simon didn’t have to beckon her into speaking, it was like the second she saw an opening, Clary was talking. “It’s getting… a lot. All the lies, all the things my mother never told me. About myself, my father, my brother… about everyone I know, almost.”

“She wanted to protect you,” Simon replied.

“I know, I know, but I just…” she sighed. “It’s like I don’t know who I am. It’s like I was never able to really know who I was, because she kept my identity a secret from me. I may not have been raised like them, but I feel… When I use a stele, when I use a seraph blade or the Mortal Cup, I can  _ feel  _ the angel blood in my veins. And when I train, it’s like… it’s like my body is made to be fighting, to learn combat.”

Simon stayed silent. He didn’t understand. He hadn’t… discovered anything about himself. He’d had a life and an identity, favorite foods, and favorite people, he’d had a family. Clary had discovered herself, and he had lost himself. He didn’t know how not to feel bitterness on the tip of his tongue.

“You found where you belonged.”

She sighed. “I think so. I think they are all right. Izzy, Jace, even Alec. Even my father. I’m… this is what I was born to do. And yet it feels foreign, and it feels like I should have known all these things. It’s like… it’s like my own mother robbed me of my own life, for eighteen years.”

“I’m sorry,” Simon replied. A part of him wasn’t. He didn’t want to acknowledge that part of him right now. “So how's your mom? I mean, I can't believe you actually rescued her.”

“We still have to wake her up, but at least she's away from Valentine,” Clary replied. Simon guessed it was a less thorny subject.

“When can I see her?”

“I don’t know,” Clary sighed. “It’s a mess at the Institute right now. Everyone’s preparing for Alec’s wedding. Maybe after that? When it’ll all be calmed down. Sorry. I just don’t think the Clav-”

“The Clave members coming to the wedding won’t like a vampire being there. Got it.”

“We could go get coffee though?”

“Unless it’s night-time coffee, I can’t.”

“Right,” she mumbled. Maybe she’d forgotten. What a luxury, right? “Then… I don’t know. Drinks?”

“Your fake ID still sucks. And I’m going to be 18 forever now,” Simon reminded. “We’ll just see when the coast is clear for me to come over, alright?”

Clary was silent and he almost heard her nod on the other side of the phone. “I’ll see you.”

“Yeah. Bye, Fray,” Simon said, with a bit of a smile still, before he hung up. He didn’t hate her, and he couldn’t even dislike her. It was Clary, sweet, stubborn Clary who was ready to kick the ass of his bullies. The tiny ball of 8 year old fire who listened to him talk about comics and Star Wars, and watched the SW movies only for Leia. His best friend.

 

\--------------

  
  


“Well this is… understated,” Catarina’s voice was full of surprise and wonder as she looked over her best friend’s clothing. 

Magnus had a soft chuckle. He’d chosen this outfit from the part of his dressing he hadn’t touched at in a while. He’d been neck-deep in party outfits and shiny things for the past couple of decades. The tighter fit of the suit vest he was wearing over his band-collared shirt of an almost ashy dark blue was… familiar.

He slid into the comfortable club chair across from Catarina’s. He looked at his friend with a smile. It was Wednesday, and Wednesdays meant they had tea in that tiny, homey place that was a mix between a tea house and a whiskey club. Catarina seemed to have already dug in the cucumber sandwiches that laid so perfectly straight on the plate in front of her.

“I know, I’ve been… digging into my old wardrobe again,” Magnus shrugged, and reached for the already poured cup of early grey. She’d poured him a cup so he wouldn’t have to arrive to already too-steeped tea. How thoughtful.

“I like it,” Catarina smiled. “I’ve missed this you.”

Magnus had a small chuckle, relaxing and leaning against the back of the chair. “Why, didn’t enjoy Party Magnus?”

Catarina rolled her eyes. “I love Party Magnus. When he’s not symptomatic of General Magnus trying to distance himself from his own feelings.”

Magnus took a sip of the tea. It was perfect. Balanced and wonderful. It could feel the quality, the perfect temperature, the perfect steeping time. He could get high on good tea. He came back to his friend, looking at her expecting eyebrow.

“I bared myself to a man yesterday. Took down every single barrier. And just looked at him. And he took all of that, and told me I was a self-absorbed, selfish seducer. Well, he didn’t say those exact words, but he meant them.”

“Should I guess that it’s the young naphil you wanted to seduce?”

“Yes. Alexander,” Magnus whispered. “I… I knew he felt the things I felt. I knew we understood each other, but he’s so… resolute in sacrificing himself for his family’s social status…”

“You always had a taste for martyrs, Magnus,” Catarina looked at him with that firm earnest look in her eyes that he loved so much. “I knew it would end like this. It’s a bit surprising to see you sober today, if he hurt you so yesterday.”

“I surprised myself too,” Magnus took a financier in his hand and took a bit of it. He took a deep breath through the almond taste that overwhelmed his taste buds.

“Does this mean I’ll see the goatee make its comeback soon?”

Magnus chuckled. “Maybe,” he shrugged, one hand caressing the bare skin around his mouth. He did miss that, facial hair. He missed the old him. The okay him. The one that was comfortable and elegant. He needed him back. “Yeah. I think give it a week or two, and the goatee will be back.”

Catarina smiled at him behind her cup. Her hair was braided beautifully today. She looked content. Worried, but content. He knew why she worried. They had no news from Dot. They had no idea if she was even alive.

“How’s work? Is the practice picking up?” Magnus asked.

Catarina huffed, tucking a loose braid behind her ear. “You have no idea. I am swamped with appointments.”

“Who would have thought Shadow People needed therapy?” Magnus teased, reminding her of an earlier talk they’d had before she’d quit her job as a nurse and become a full time therapist for Shadow People as well as some mundanes.

“It’s really good work, you know?” Catarina smiled. “Makes me feel like I’m making a difference. Taking care of people, who can’t really be taken care of otherwise. I haven’t felt like this in a long time, when medicine was reserved to the richest.”

Magnus scoffed. “With the way this country is going, it’s starting to feel like Victorian London again.”

Catarina nodded. “Yes. I think I’ll always do more than just take care of our people. I’m thinking of volunteering as a nurse for some charities. Since I have legal documents for both nursing and psychiatry.”

“I wouldn’t imagine you not caring for those who cannot get their care elsewhere. It was always what you were good at. Always what your purpose was.”

The woman took a deep breath. “I was lucky to find my place in this world so easily. I know some whose journey hasn’t been as easy.” She sent him a pointed look.

Magnus hummed in reply, finishing one cup of tea, and pouring another, then reaching for more of the delicious food.

“I was invited to Alexander’s wedding. By his sister. I have no idea why she’s invited me. She knows that her brother and I have some kind of… history.” 

“She believes you can stop him from sacrificing himself. She wouldn’t be the first to believe you’re capable of stealing men away from their dreadful fates.”

“I’m no superhero, Catarina,” Magnus replied, a bit colder. “And my life cannot be spent running after pretty boys who are too desperate to fix their families to even realize the pain they are inflicting themselves. It’s not my version of you healing the masses.”

There was a snap in his voice and he felt Catarina’s eyes on him even as he stared stubbornly at the passer-bys through the window of the tea salon. He couldn’t just spend his time doing that. He’d given Alexander a chance, that was all he was going to do. He couldn’t, he  _ wouldn’t  _ keep running after him.

He would go to that wedding, because it was rude to refuse an invitation, but it was all that would happen. He would congratulate the bride and groom, leave some jewelry or some expensive knick-knack on the pile of wedding gifts and that would be enough.

 

\--------------

 

Alec wanted to go on that mission. He needed to. Anything to get out of the atmosphere of the Institute right now, an atmosphere that grabbed him at the throat and just suffocated him. Wedding this, wedding that, everything was about the wedding. He just wanted an out.

But he couldn’t go on that mission with Magnus, Jace and Clary. First because him leaving as well would be suspicious, and also because he just couldn’t deal with Magnus being there. He had made a decision,and that decision was to marry Lydia.

So here he was, looking at suits that Izzy was taking out of bags and laying on his bed. There was black ones, more of the mundane fashion than of the Shadowhunter one. There were gold ones, ranging from dark gold almost brown, to so light it was almost white. And there was a white blazer.

White, white like the mourning color. He took a deep breath and looked up at Izzy. She looked back at him. She knew what he was thinking about, and Alec could  tell she didn’t want him to choose this one. But it was the only one that fit. Besides, it would fit the white backdrop of Lydia’s dress, that he’d seen laying on her bed as he walked by her room.

He slid the blazer over his simple tshirt. It felt strange. It fit perfectly already. Izzy took a deep breath and walked up to him, and fingers smoothing over the fabric and straightening some areas. Her mouth was tight, and her jaw set, her motions quick and efficient. She tugged a bit too hard on the fabric.

She looked up at him. He couldn’t stand to look at her in the eyes, but yet, he did. He held her gaze, and she swallowed.

“You look handsome,” she whispered. “You really do, Alec.”

He nodded. “Thank you.” 

He turned to look at himself in the mirror. It was awkward yes, because he was wearing his usual tactical black pants and a black tshirt and his combat boots, but… it was weird to see himself like this. Almost dressed-up.

Izzy was looking at him thoughtfully. He nodded. “Yeah. This one’s right.”

“I doubt people will ask themselves why you’re wearing white,” Izzy started rambling, looking at the other beautiful jackets on the bed. “After all, not everyone respects the traditional colors for  _ everything _ .”

“And it matches Lydia’s white and gold dress. It’s good, Izzy.” Alec replied, sliding off the jacket. “We have three days to get perfectly ready anyway.”

Izzy nodded, and packed up everything she’d unpacked fifteen minutes earlier. She put all the jackets back in their bags.

There was a knock at the door and one Shadowhunter opened the door, and informed them that a couple had just arrived in the portal room. Good Angel, what were they doing here?  Who were they?

Alec watched as Izzy mentally went through the list of guests and estimated arrival times, as well as which rooms that were already ready. The look of complete confusion and nervousness over her face was both hilarious and sad.

“Hey, chill,” he chuckled and pulled her close for a hug for a minute. She was so tense. “Have you even been sleeping these last few days?” Izzy just shook her head against his chest. He sighed and held her a little tighter. “Please don’t overwork yourself for this, Izzy. it’s not worth it.”

She sighed. “Why are you going through with it then? If it’s not worth me getting worked up over?”

“Because it’s what I want. What’s right.”

She sighed again, louder, before taking a step back and nodding at him. ”Okay.”

“Really? Just ‘okay’? Where’s the fire, where’s the rage? What did you do with my sister?” He chuckled, looking at her.

“I want to be there for you. If you think it’s right, then it’s right.”

For some reason, it didn’t make Alec feel better. Maybe if he just kept being told that it was a bad idea, maybe if more people tried to tell him not to do it, he wouldn’t. He knew he would never love Lydia the way he was supposed to. He knew he would never want her either. It would be duty, from April 23rd, 2016 to the end of his life.

Divorce wasn’t an option, and he did not want to cheat on her with a man either. If it ever got known… it would make their reputation fall apart. So this was how it was. Duty, and marriage. And a part of him wanted Izzy to rage against him, while the other half just was happy she was there.

They walked out of the room and through the corridors. “Okay so, Mom and Dad are arriving on the 22nd, so in two days. Max is staying with his tutors in Idris. The Branwells will be arriving on the 22nd as well. Jia and Aline Penhallow will be here on the day of, and not stay the night. There are a few other Clave members that are invited. Annamarie Highsmith and her brother Andrew Highsmith… I have no fucking idea who the early arrivals are.” She rolled her eyes. “And really, arriving three days early? Do they think we have nothing else to do but entertain them?”

Alec barely listened as Izzy rambled away about how rude it was to be there three days before the wedding, and not be a direct family member. She guessed they weren’t some cousins of them. Robert’s family lived in Spain and wouldn’t come, and Maryse had no nieces or nephews that anyone was aware of.

They walked up to the portal and smiled at the two people who were waiting for them in front of the portal door. They were around the age of their parents, two very Clave-like serious people.

“Good afternoon, my name is Isabelle Lightwood, and this is Alec Lightwood, it’s a pleasure to welcome you at the New York Institute,” Izzy’s tone was too sweet.

“Hello, Miss Lightwood,” the man smiled. “James and Vivian Whitecock, uncle and aunt of the bride to be.” 

_ Whitecock _ . Really? Alec shared a look with Izzy and she was thinking the same thing. He couldn’t help the smile that was creeping up his face.  _ Whitecock. Who the fuck had come  up with that fucking name?  _ Ah fuck. He imagined an old Shadowhunter from the 11th century, taking off his underwear, looking down and going ‘ah yes, of course, i found my name. I will call myself Whitecock’.

Izzy opened her mouth again, but there was only a giggle in it. Alec’s face hurt with the effort of containing his laughter.

“Sure, Mr Whitec-cock,” Izzy managed. “I will have someone take you to your rooms so you can get settled. Thank you for coming.”

This was the final straw. Alec laughed. Loudly. He barely even looked at the man’s face again, knowing he would probably glare at him for laughing at his name but  _ come on _ . The guy was named fucking  _ Whitecock _ .

Alec couldn’t stop laughing. He just couldn’t. Tension was suddenly releasing in his body and he was just standing there, in view of everyone, laughing like a maniac because of some fucking guy named Whitecock. His abs hurt and he was panting, something that never happened to him.

 

\-------------------------

 

“Hodge, can I talk to you for a second?” 

Hodge smirked. Of course they were coming to talk to him. Magnus being there, all that chatter about going onto a mission, while they were still supposed never go outside without a watchdog, and Clary wasn’t even supposed to leave the Institute. He knew what that was like. That had been the last 18 years of his life.

Jace stood next to him and crossed his arms. Hodge turned to him. It would be the third time he helped the kids escape one way or another the watch of the Clave. First when they’d had to go get the mundane, and a second time, to go and break out the Seelie. This time, it was all about a warlock, and waking up Jocelyn.

He guessed he could distract their watchers while they slipped out. He would maybe get in trouble, but it wasn’t as if he would be here for much longer. He licked his lips. Besides, it made it all easier if he knew exactly when they were leaving.

“You already know what I’m going to ask,” Jace chuckled, and Hodge nodded.

“Yes. You want me to help you distract the wonderful Shadowhunters that are watching you and Clary so you can go and get Ragnor Fell to awake Jocelyn.”

“Right, will you?”

Hodge pretended to think about it, unsheathing and checking the blades of the training swords of the new makeshift training rooms. He could feel the nervous energy of the young man next to him, as if the tens of seconds he took to “make his mind” where already too long for him to wait.

Jace just wanted all of this to be done and over with. He didn’t necessarily want Jocelyn to wake up because then he would have to be confronted with her, he would have to be confronted with the woman that had abandoned him, the woman who had not wanted him. He would have to be confronted with the woman who had raised Clary but left him in Michael’s hands. 

His mind kept calling Michael Valentine, even if he now knew that he had been raised by Valentine. What would he have been if he had been raised by Jocelyn like Clary had? Would he be as emotional as her? Would he be as empathetic as her, as willing to go against Clave rules? Would he be as lost as she was when walking around the Institute?

He wouldn’t know Alec or Izzy. He wouldn’t know Max, Maryse and Robert, wouldn’t know how to defend himself. He wouldn’t know piano. Maybe he would be an artist like Clary was. Or maybe that was just Clary. He would be soft. He would be weak like her. Instead he was… strong. He was Jace Wayland, Jace Lightwood, Jace… Morgenstern.

Morgenstern. He hated that name and what it meant. He hated that it meant Valentine and traitor and hatred and pain. It was a name of terror and he didn’t want to be associated with it.

He cracked his knuckles and the noise reverberated through his entire body and he remembered the feeling of bone crushed by hammer. Valentine Morgenstern had done that to him. His father, Valentine, had given him crushed bones and pasta with meatballs, piano lessons and cracked ribs from training sessions that turned into beatings the second Jace’s body hit the ground.

A shudder ran through Jace’s body. He shouldn’t be going on an unsanctioned mission, he would only get punished more for it. They had already taken most of his freedom, the next step was going to be much more painful and he knew it, he felt it in his bones, with the taste of tomato sauce with too much  oregano.

“You won’t have much time. Please make sure Magnus Bane doesn’t spend a few hours chatting with his old friend, and don’t let the warlocks talk you into giving them too much in exchange for awakening Jocelyn. You should find steles and weapons ready in an hour on the armory table, the room should be empty.” Hodge said, and it was enough for Jace to nod and clap him on the back.

“Thanks, Hodge, you’re the best.” he said, before rushing away.

 

\-------------------------

 

Magnus had expected many things to happen after walking through the atrociously green fire that guarded the way to Ragnor’s cottage. Why did the fire have to be green? It clashed horribly with the grass. 

He struggled against the bonds of magic that kept his wrists held behind the back of the chair he had been forced to sit onto. The cottage was the exact same as it had been the last time Magnus had been here, decades ago. He did not see Ragnor often anymore, but he still considered him one of his closest of friends.

“We both know I enjoy the occasional bit of bondage, dear friend, but I would appreciate if you stopped this… display of yours and let us go,” Magnus rolled his eyes at the man that was standing in front of him; with his ridiculous 18th century clothing and smug smirk.

“Why would I, kitten?” Ragnor smirked. “This is so much more fun than doing it the old-fashioned way.”

“There is nothing old-fashioned about opening a door to guests and saying hello!” Jace exclaimed and Ragnor rolled his eyes at him, and with a roll of his wrist, Jace was suddenly mute.

“Aaaah, silence. Perfect. I am tired of blabbering nephilim.”

“Aren’t we all?” Magnus chuckled.

“Which means I’m even more surprised to see you here than to see some nephilim having found my hideout.” Ragnor leaned against his desk, watching his friend with questioning eyes. “How much did they pay you?”

“How much did they pay  _ you _ ? Making a potion for Jocelyn Morgenstern? Really?”

“She was going by Jocelyn Fairchild then. Plausible deniability?”

Magnus laughed, and looked at his friend. “We both know you knew exactly who she was.”

Ragnor nodded, going to straighten the collar of Magnus’ vest. “Hmm. I got such lovely Fairchild and Morgenstern trinkets…” He smiled. “I could retire for a good thousand years only on these trinkets.”

Magnus nodded. “Good for you. But I guess we need you to undo all of that now.”

“What do you have to offer me?”

“Well. You love Paris, don’t you? Take some time off from… whatever it is that you do here. Come to my apartment.”

With another roll of wrist, Magnus felt the glamour fall over his body.

“She’s here.” Ragnor said, and disappeared into the corridor.

“You’re ridiculous!” Magnus rolled his eyes and returned to trying to get out of the bonds. Jace seemed to have been freed of his muting spell and looked over at Magnus. Magnus barely paid attention to him before he started actively talking to him.

“Are you guys fucking or something?”

Magnus sighed. “Not every single relationship ever is about sex, young man. Not only being one of my best friends, Ragnor is asexual. He has no desire for sexual activity of any kind. I believe that, if he has companionship preferences, they tend to be more towards women in any case. So no.”

 

\-----------

 

Ragnor’s hands caressed the spines of books as he tried to find the one that housed what he was looking for. He had no real idea what he was looking for but he knew it was there. He had simply forgotten the nature of the thing. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten rid of that specific memory. 

He was reaching for a specifically big volume on bread baking techniques in ancient Ethiopia when there was a loud bang of broken glass, and a creature jumped at his head. A creature he had already seen before. A demon.

The demon grabbed onto him and sunk its dart into his neck, and he felt the poison starting to course through his veins. He stumbled backwards. With the poison infecting him so rapidly, it was harder and harder by the fraction of a second to get his magic to push the creature away.

He managed, eventually, but the force of the blow sent him falling over the balcony and onto the floor. He heard Magnus yell his name. Everything was pain. He rarely experienced pain, it was usually only mild inconvenience at worse, or an ache after a particularly tonic stroll through the fields.

He tried to speak, but he could already feel the venom, and it was going too fast in his system. He felt his blood burning, any trace of mundane blood boiling as the venom took control of his body. “Creature took me by surprise,” he gasped.

Magnus’ magic was soon at work to counteract the venom. It seemed to be working hard trying to heal him, but it was as if Ragnor couldn’t feel it underneath the pain. He hated to see the fear on Magnus’ face. He preferred his usual frown or his usual pout.

“Be still, my dear little cabbage,” Ragnor hated being called that, even by Magnus, but it was reassuring. It was warm. He was very warm, he could feel himself breaking into a sweat. “Your wounds are deep.”

That was the last thing Ragnor heard. He was boiling. He was boiling and he couldn’t see or hear anything, it was as if his body was dead. But his soul wasn’t. He stayed in his darkness for a long time. Hours, it felt like hours.

Until his eyes opened again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 16 - Malec Part 2
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	16. Malec Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again!
> 
> I was yelled at a lot for the Malec angst of last week, but don't worry, it's coming to an end! (or is it)
> 
> If you're willing, please check out the SH 2.0. Wikia at sh20fic.fandom.com! The betas and I have been working very hard on it! 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:
> 
> This chapter has some homophobia.  
> If you're uncomfortable with that, I will recommend for you to skip the first scene, the Lydia/Clary chat scene.  
> Alec and Jace also have a conversation about Alec's sexuality. 
> 
> Stay safe my darlings

Clary nodded at Hepzibah, as the woman walked past her out of the Head of Institute office. She was carrying Lydia’s dress, it was mostly finished by now, only small details remaining, and it had been obvious they’d been doing the final fitting. 

Tomorrow evening, Lydia Branwell would be Lydia Lightwood. Clary didn’t like what it meant, didn’t like the sacrifice Alec was making, because it was just wrong. It just was. He shouldn’t have to marry a woman, not when it was so obvious that he wasn’t into women. 

How could Lydia even agree to that? How could she look at Alec and go ‘yes, I’ll marry him and everything will be okay’? It made Clary want to puke. Maybe it was just because she hadn’t been raised in this world but... her mother hadn’t been against her being gay. Initially, she hadn’t liked it, but she hadn’t tried to set her up with men to ‘fix’ her. 

It hadn’t been easy, and Clary had thought she had lost her mom so many times between her coming out and now, but it had been okay in the end. And now there was this woman in front of her. 

“Your dress is stunning,” Clary whispered.

Lydia looked at her and tightened the straps of her dressing gown, taking a step away. Clary sighed. She was covering herself.

“Thank you,” Lydia muttered after a moment. “I feel more nervous wearing that dress than I ever have on the battlefield.”

_ And you feel nervous of me being there when you’re wearing a robe. _

“I think that's pretty normal, it’s a wedding after all. I know I will be nervous too when I get married,” Clary shrugged.

Lydia had a wince. “Well, whoever he is, your husband will be lucky to have you. Though with a name like yours… finding a husband will be hard.”

Clary rolled her eyes. She had no interest in a husband and she knew Lydia knew that. She knew Clary was gay, but she stayed so deep in her heteronormative ideas… “Hmm. I’ll see. I’m sure I will find a  _ wife _ that will love me despite my father’s name.”

Lydia winced again. “I understand why you don’t understand how marriage works in our culture. You weren’t raised right.”

Clary wanted to stop these words from leaving the lips of more Shadowhunters. Everyone acted as if she was some… child that had been raised in the forest by wolves. She hadn’t. She had been raised by a woman who had changed, a woman who had maybe gained respect for people that she had previously hated for no reason.

“I would love to have my mother explain exactly how she raised me right, but unfortunately it seems like someone doesn’t want me to wake her up.”

Lydia frowned, crossing her arms. “What do you mean?”

She seemed genuinely confused.

“There was a Shax demon attack when we were at Ragnor Fell’s house. It killed him,” Clary sighed and sat against the edge of the desk, looking at the woman.

Lydia’s mouth opened and she hesitated, stuttered. “By the Angel…”

“We suspect it to be Valentine,” Clary explained. “He already threatened to kill my mother for the Cup once, and it seems now that he has no more regard for her life, no matter what he says. All he wants is me and the Cup. Maybe Jace as well.”

Lydia looked up at her. “That’s… Very few people knew you were going, and I registered it as a High Clearance mission. A strict need-to-know basis.”

“There are still people who could have overheard us yesterday when we were talking about it. Like you did, actually.”

Lydia frowned, looking up at her. “Am I a suspect on your list?”

“Wow, wow, that’s a big step, Lydia,” Clary chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m not accusing you. If you were working with Valentine, you would have already given the Cup to him long ago. And I can’t imagine you going against the Clave for any reason. After everything that happened with Izzy, it’s pretty obvious where your loyalty lies.”

Clary suspected her of course. She didn’t trust her to have anyone’s good interests at heart. She had more than once shown that she was willing to do pretty much anything for the things she believed in. And those things were the Law and, it seemed, Shadowhunter superiority over Downworlders.

“I care about the Lightwoods, Clary,” Lydia’s plea fell onto deaf ears.

“You prosecuted Izzy and now you’re marrying Alec,” Clary shrugged. “That doesn’t seem like stuff someone that cares about either of them would do.”

Lydia rolled her eyes at her. “I know you believe that everything should work like in the mundane world, and your kind of people should be allowed to marry who they want, but the Clave doesn’t function that way. I am aware of the way Alec looks at the warlock, but he still chose to propose to me. He chose to marry me, so he wouldn’t bring even more shame to his family.”

“I guess I should be thanking you for helping my friend, then,” Clary scoffed.

“Yes. The Clave would not allow for Alec to marry a man, let alone a warlock. I’m doing him and everyone a favor. Besides, his desire to restore the Lightwood name? That’s something I can understand, something that’s right. I want to help him do just that.”

“What about his happiness?” Clary said, softer. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Shadowhunters know that our duty to our family supersedes our personal desires,” Lydia sighed. “I learned that the hard way. If I had let my family choose for me someone who was actually good for me, I wouldn’t be here today.” She looked over at Clary. “Look, I know that you're still new to this world and our traditions may seem foreign to you, and -”

“They are just wrong. And cold. Marriage is a good thing. Alec should not have to give up who he is, or at least the chance to figure it out, just to please his family.”

“It was his choice, Clary. I did not force him into it. He recognized what was right, and proposed to me.”

Clary sighed. Lydia knew nothing about the attack by the Shax demon, and she also would not budge in her project of marrying Alec. Clary had tried. She knew she needed to trust Alec’s decision, but every once of her body just screamed at her that this was wrong.  And Lydia, with her homophobic rhetoric, it just proved Clary’s point. She wanted to scream.

 

\------------------------

 

Night was falling outside of Magnus’ apartment. Ragnor was sleeping off his encounter with a Shax demon in the guest bedroom, and everything was okay. God, Magnus had thought Ragnor was dead. He’d felt him go still in his arms, and his magic had closed up the wound but it really had felt like Rganor was gone.

Magnus had no idea how he would have dealt with that. He’d have probably closed himself off again, left himself sitting in all this pain until Catarina would have found him passed out drunk on his kitchen floor, and shaken him back into a semblance of life.

Ragnor had known him for centuries, ever since he’d come back from Edom, with too much blood on his hands, and too many horrors in his eyes. He’d held him as Magnus sobbed, for nights after nights, he’d found him as Magnus had killed someone who didn’t deserve it.

Ragnor had found him and taken him under his wings, cared for him when Magnus was at his most vulnerable. And then he’d introduced him to Catarina. And they’d also met Dot. And now they were all okay. Ragnor knew him… like the back of his hand, and Magnus both loved and hated that fact.

He loved having such a friend, and he hated the vulnerability in having someone know him so well, so intimately. He’d seen him so dark, so full of hatred and horror. And so happy and full of light.

Magnus sighed as he looked through the old picture book. 19th century, Ragnor, Magnus and Camille.  He’d looked almost happy then, little did he know what was about to happen. How his gorgeous and wonderful Camille was going to become much more horrible. Or maybe she’d always been, and before that night, he just hadn’t realized.

“How I loathe that photograph,” Ragnor’s voice resounded behind him. “I must remember, chin down, eyes up. Otherwise, I look like a squinty toad.”

“You should be in bed, resting,” Magnus chastised, and watched as Ragnor sat down in front of him in one of the big comfy chairs.

“I’m much harder to get rid of than that. I’m fine, your magic worked wonders, and then my body did the rest.” Ragnor sighed, and looked at him, shaking his head. “Now, please, put away that horrid photograph. It commemorates a night I'd rather forget.  Oh, how I had to comfort you.”

Magnus remembered it. The pain, the litres of cheap alcohol and the never-ending sorrow of a broken heart. It hadn’t been his first broken heart, but this one he would probably remember forever. “How I loved her. I prayed she would love me the same, but she just laughed.”

_ Pathetic Magnus, praying to his god for something that can never happen. Why would I love you? You’re maybe good in bedroom activities, but you should know my heart is long dead and cannot beat for you, or anyone. I thought you were smart enough to understand that our little arrangement was never going to be about love. _

“To Camille, immortals aren't supposed to feel true love,” Magnus felt the bitterness of too many heart breaks and too many pains on his tongue, and he wanted to replace it with alcohol. “She was so cynical.”

They’d been so different, from the very beginning, but Magnus had mistaken her cold fire for the same kind of passion that animated him, when it had been just the burn of ice. He’d thought, he’d really believed she was perfectly like him, a mate to his soul, as sarcastic as he was to hide the warmth of a too tender heart.

“Camille broke my heart.”

“You let her break your heart, my friend,” Ragnor pointed out, and for a moment, Magnus almost believed they were back to those days of sorrow. “You're immortal but she killed you.”

 

\-------------------------

 

Alec sighed as Izzy wrapped the red satin blindfold over his eyes. He had no idea why she was doing this, why she was even trying to have him have a Bachelor party. It wasn’t even something Shadowhunters did. It was a mundane tradition, a mundane thing. They weren’t mundanes, this entire wedding was so very Shadowhunter. 

“Why are we doing this, Izzy?” Alec sighed.

“Well, you’re getting married tomorrow, and I’ve been told bachelor parties were about spending time with friends, so you know?”

That wasn’t an answer, but Alec let her guide him down the stairs to the bar area. It was rarely used, but he guessed that, with the arrival of all the guests, it would be filled tomorrow.

“Ready? A couple more steps.”

Horrendous dance music was playing in the background. Alec huffed and let himself be guided towards what he thought was the center of the room.

“Now, count to five, and take your blindfold off.”

Alec huffed. He had stuff to do. He wanted to go and train for a while, get the nerves and tension out of his body, something he just desperately needed. He didn’t need to be doing this nonsense. He didn’t really like alcohol, and it seemed that mundane Bachelor parties included that quite a lot.

He counted and took off the blindfold, sighing as he saw Jace there.

“She roped you into this too?” he asked, putting the blindfold into his pocket and walking a bit towards the man.

“Actually no. I agreed, she didn’t need to blindfold me.”

Alec nodded. Great. Jace and him hadn’t seen eye to eye in a while, not since Alec had proposed to Lydia. They’d fought, and they’d even ended up on the opposite side of the Meliorn op. And then there had been the prosecution, and how Jace had barely made it back in time.

They’d never been this… estranged. Alec didn’t feel a lot of remorse, about it, but he missed his brother. He just wished this hadn’t come to that.  

“I guess she wants us to talk then. Well, it's my bachelor party, so you go first.”  _ My bachelor party.  _ Why did it hurt when he said that? He had made his choice, he was sure of his own choice.

“I don't know how things got so messed up between us. But I do know my life has been a lot harder not having you to talk to.”

“Mine, too.” It almost hurt to admit it, but yeah, Alec missed his brother, he missed Jace’s stupid jokes and smiles when they were training. He even missed the jealousy that he felt when he saw Maryse smile at Jace more than at him. 

“I know it seems like I've been making a lot of crazy choices lately. And I know you think that I was only thinking about myself and Clary, and I wasn't thinking about the consequences to anyone else. All I can say is, I've been going through a lot. But I only ever did what I thought was right, Alec. But I never wanted to hurt you. I'm sorry.”

“You almost got Izzy exiled, Jace,” Alec replied. “I… I was going to lose her. You weren’t there, you were with Clary, you were… you weren’t there.”

“I know. And it was wrong, and I should have been there for you, because you’re my brother. And I love you, Alec.”

Alec sighed, closing his eyes. He dreaded the next few days, he dreaded the wedding, and he just wanted to let all of his fear and dread out, but he also didn’t know if telling people was good. He still had no idea what Jace thought about him being… liking men.

“So… speaking of siblings. Clary's your sister. You know, what's up with that?” Alec asked, coming to sit on a bench. Jace followed him, sighing.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s up with that. It’s like I don’t know anything anymore, it’s like I have… no one.”

Alec rolled his eyes. “Will you shut up? You’re so dramatic, all the time. You have us. Izzy, and I, we’re there, okay? Besides, you’re still my suggenes at my wedding, if that means anything.”

Jace chuckled. “Right. Your wedding.”

“Yeah. My wedding. To Lydia.” Alec replied, more to himself than anything else.

“I never thought I would see you get married this early. Hell, I didn’t think I would ever see you get married. You always seemed so… different.”

Alec swallowed. “Is it because of what you saw with the memory demon? How I was…  _ aching  _ for Raj, of all people?”

“You have weird taste, dude, I’ll just have to say that,” Jace chuckled, but he still felt nervous. Or maybe Alec was the one who was nervous.

“About that,” Alec mumbled. “About me...liking men.”  

Jace took a deep breath. “I… I don’t understand it. I don’t… know how to deal with it. Or how… to get it.” he explained. “It was weird. It was… my first reaction… I felt like you had been lying to me about it.  I felt like it was wrong, but I know it isn’t. I know it isn’t but I just…”

“Couldn’t help yourself?” Alec’s voice was completely devoid of emotion and it kinda scared Jace.

“Yeah. I couldn’t stop the reaction, but Alec… Alec, you’re my brother. And I love you, and if this is who you are, then… I love you liking men too. What’s the term? Homosexual?”

“I don’t really know…”

Jace nodded. “I’ll ask Clary. She’ll know that.”

Alec grabbed Jace’s arm. “Please… don’t go around telling everyone all the time. Let’s just… keep this to ourselves right now, okay?”

Jace smiled softly and nodded. “Of course. Just… why are you doing the wedding with Lydia, if you are… like this?”

“You know, it's like, you have this plan for your life right, and you know what you need to do and what your responsibilities are. And you think, you know, "If you follow the rules, everything's gonna be fine." Then somebody comes along, and... pushes you off that path. And I’m just trying to get back on the right path, for all of you, for you and Izzy, and Mom and Dad. And if it’s what… it takes? Then it’s worth it.”

Jace nodded. “It’s the same old story.  We’re Shadowhunters. Emotions get in the way. And if you get knocked off the path, you have to focus and find your way back. I mean, you still have to be true to yourself.”

Alec looked down at his hands. He wanted to go and punch something right now. “I am. I’m a Lightwood. I’m fulfilling my duty, and my duty is to marry Lydia, and repair what our parents have done to the family name.”

“Alright.”

  
  


\-----------------------------------

  
  


Magnus didn’t mind the cohabitation with Ragnor. They hadn’t lived together in quite a long time though, and he guessed he had forgotten exactly how it was to live around this messy, eccentric man. 

Ragnor sang loudly in the shower, took his tea with extremely specific measurements of both milk and sugar, and still slept in a 18th century cotton night shirt, that covered him down to his knees, complete with ribbons at the sleeves.

He was ridiculous, and Magnus loved him. He loved him like a brother, and almost like a father too. Like a mentor, truly. Like the one person who’d taken him under his wing and never ever let go once since the very first night.

It was still clear in Magnus’ head, the first time he’d heard this stranger exclaim in a voice too sweet for the blood that was covering his hands and knees:  _ oh mon chaton. _

“So, I heard you were invited to a wedding, kitten?” Ragnor said as he sipped the tea that was still smoking hot. “Does no one remember that you’re perfectly unmanageable during weddings?”

Magnus had a fake loud ‘hahaha’ before sitting down next to him. “First of all, I’m not that bad at weddings, it was only that one time. Second, people are rarely old enough to remember that day. Third, I still haven’t decided if I was going. I can’t exactly imagine showing up to Alexander’s wedding… after all, we almost had sex, that would just be… scandalous.”

Ragnor just rolled his eyes and looked at his friend. “They were the ones who invited you.”

“Maybe Camille was right,” Magnus continued without paying much attention. “I am immortal. I can party and have fun to my heart's content without the anchors of love around my feet.”

Magnus didn’t believe love was a weight to pull through life. Yes, his shoulders and mind would be lighter if he hadn’t had all the heart breaks, and loves lost, but his memory would be less rich, and his heart would be much drier.

Love was a beautiful thing. And everyone deserved to feel it, old warlocks or young queer Shadowhunters. He sighed a little.

“You are not Camille,” Ragnor interjected. “And though I know you won't believe me, someday someone will come along who will tear down those walls you've built around your heart. And when that love comes back to you, you must do everything in your power to fight for it.”

 

\---------------------

  
  


Alec watched as the door closed on Jace, and he was left alone in his bedroom, with his wedding suit. White vest, white shirt, black pants, black bow tie, black cummerbund. The fabrics were beautiful, and he did like the colors. He guessed he’d had just preferred if he wasn’t wearing those things to his wedding to Lydia. 

In a few hours, it was going to be over. His life would change forever. He would be married to Lydia Branwell, a woman he didn’t love, couldn’t love, and who didn’t make him very comfortable anymore, not since the talk they’d had in the Gard before Izzy’s questioning. He understood her, and the fact he did made him almost uncomfortable.

He undressed and started putting on the foreign clothes that were laid out for him. They almost scared him in a way, they were such a symbol of the end of his life as a free man. It was horrible to think about it that way, he realized. That he wouldn’t be free once the Wedding Union rune would be burnt into his skin.

He would be a married man. A married man with a duty to give heirs to his family. An image of himself in bed with Lydia was conjured up by his mind, and he almost felt sick. He couldn’t even imagine her naked.

He had to do this. For the good of his family. It was the only thing that mattered right now. Izzy’s future, Max’s future, the family legacy. Alec slid on the white suit vest, and looked at himself in the mirror. The fabric shone with golden reflections. It was almost strange that he found himself handsome.

 

\--------------

  
  
  


Magnus let his fingers trail over the shirts that were hanging in perfect rows in his dressing room. Selecting an outfit for a wedding wasn’t exactly something he was used to. Especially not for a nephili wedding.

He needed to avoid colors like white and gold, those that were both of the mundane and nephili traditions for weddings. He wasn’t there as anything but a random guest, neither family to the bride or groom, and barely a friend to any of the people that would undoubtedly be there as well, and he had to dress the part. Something relatively serious, and relatively simple.

He slid a black band-collared silk shirt off of a hanger, and black dress pants as well, and quickly changed into them. It was seriously dark, and seriously looked like he was mourning something. Maybe he was. His fingers found the soft velvet of a suit jacket, and it’s color was just… perfect. Deep, dark red, almost purple in how dark it was. It was perfect.

Ragnor was right. He wasn’t Camille. He wasn’t ice cold and dry, unable to feel love, unable to let himself fall for someone. He wasn’t like her and he’d never have been, and the last… decades of living alone had proved that. He’d enjoyed himself, and he hadn’t been unhappy, but he’d missed the steadiness of a body in his bed, and arms around him. He’d missed someone to fill his day with laughter and smiles.

Maybe Alexander Lightwood could be that someone, maybe not, but he ought to go to the wedding. If only to honor the invitation, and see the faces of all these Shadowhunters as he walked in.

He looked at the time. He still had his makeup to do, and he needed to get going. Makeup, hair and jewelry only took a few hand motions, and soon he was walking through the living room.

Ragnor raised an eyebrow at him, from where he was still drinking tea.. “Going somewhere?”

“I have a wedding to attend, old friend, and it’s very unlike me not to be perfectly dressed for the occasion,” Magnus looked at his friend and raised a hand to stop him from speaking, “except that time, yes I know, Ragnor.”

“I said nothing!” Ragnor exclaimed as Magnus walked out of the apartment, and opened a portal.

 

\---------------------

 

With every person that walked into the room, Alec felt his heart beat a little slower. By the end of this, he would be dead and he knew it. All guests had arrived with at least a couple of hours of advance, and they were all dressed in dark colors, from dark gold to black. 

Lydia’s parents were slightly older than Alec’s, and her mother bore a striking resemblance to Alec’s fiancée. It was weird. In a couple decades, he would be standing next to an older Lydia at his own child’s marriage. He had to fight the nausea again.

Clary’s eyes seemed to be glaring at every single person as she walked through the arch and towards her seat. Alec’s eyes met hers, and she softened for a second. As if they were the same. And for the first time since he’d met her, Alec felt a hint of… softness towards the girl. There was kinship in how genuinely unhappy to be here she looked.

Alec nodded at her before she went to talk to Hodge about something. Jace was standing by Alec’s side, and it was comforting to have him there, if he was honest. He was going to be okay, as long as he had Jace, Izzy and even maybe Clary. As long as he had his family, his people.

His parents were next. Maryse and Robert, and their ideals and their ideas on what was right and wrong. Maryse walked up to him and Alec tried not to tense before she opened her mouth.

“When you first proposed to Lydia, I'll admit, I was wary,” his mother said, and Alec swallowed. “But now,” she stopped and inhaled. There was emotion in her voice as she spoke. “you've made me so proud.”

Alec wanted everything to end now. She was proud, and he was glad someone was seeing everything, seeing the sacrifice he was making. Maryse wasn’t exactly in the know of every detail of what he was giving away. But she appreciated what he was doing for what it was. He was working for the good of his family. Robert gave him a firm handshake.

“All right, you're ready for this?” Jace asked, and Alec took a deep breath. There was an empty seat in the first row. He didn’t know who was supposed to be sitting there.

“As ready as I'll ever be.”

Jace busied himself with tugging and rearranging the lapels of his jacket. Alec knew Jace didn’t agree with what was going on, but at least he was there.

“I'm glad you're here with me,” he said softly.

“Wouldn't be anywhere else.”

With that, Alec nodded, and went to take his place where he was supposed to wait for Lydia to come in. His mother was looking at him like it was the best day of her life. The wedded union rune shone gold on the red background of the aisle where Lydia would arrive.

He looked at the wall. There was no specific wedding decoration on that wall, so he just focused on that, and tried to calm himself down, and let the past, his life, go. It was the future now. This was his future.

23 years old wasn’t that early to marry in their culture. And Lydia was a good match. She was strong, and she was a leader, and she was a Branwell, and had been personally mentored by the Inquisitor. Her family line was strong. They would have a good marriage and healthy strong children to add to the defense lines against the demons. This was what the Angel wanted for him.

There was a loud thud.

_ “Attention”, _ the Silent Brother spoke in his mind.  _ “The ceremony is about to commence.” _

 

\------------------------

 

Magnus was late. He’d just realized he was, and he’d had to portal outside of the zone of influence of the Institute’s wards, a block away. He walked through the relatively busy street. It was like mundanes were trying to put themselves in the way of the Institute, and for a second, he considered the option of it being a warning from the universe that he shouldn’t go there. 

After all, it was a nephili affair. Two nephilim marrying each other. If he hadn’t wanted the man’s dick, maybe he wouldn’t have even considered coming. It wasn’t even really about sex anymore, and it hadn’t been for days, and Magnus was really trying to stop himself from pretending that he didn’t genuinely care for the man.

This was Alexander’s wedding, and this was going to be the day Magnus said goodbye to him. He would attend the wedding, maybe manage not to get thrown out for either arriving late or just being a warlock, and he would say two things. Goodbye and good luck.

 

\----------------------

 

Izzy looked beautiful. She always did, but she did especially now. She was holding in her hands the soft pillow that carried a stele, as well the necklace and bracelet that would soon be adorning Lydia’s neck and Alec’s wrist. The bracelet almost looked like a shackle to him now. A stylized shackle, biding his soul down. 

Alec swallowed, as Izzy came to stand across from him, mirroring Jace’s position as the witness of Lydia’s wedding. The dress she was wearing was dark gold, and she truly looked gorgeous. She looked like she shouldn’t be at the arranged wedding of her brother, but at an occasion that was worth looking this beautiful.

He couldn’t feel much from her, but she hadn’t cut herself off. She was… serene, or at least she was trying to be as serene as possible. There was an undercutting of sadness, and Alec locked eyes with her. He understood.

Next was Lydia. She was objectively looking beautiful, and her smile was too big. Everyone was smiling too big. Everyone looked like they were happy. They probably were. Alec helped the woman to get up to him.

 

\-----------------

 

A naphil stopped him from entering, and it took Magnus way too long to get the invitation, and get in. He walked down the main corridor and arrived into the mostly deserted war room. Another Shadowhunter stood up at the sight of him and walked up to him. 

“The Head of Institute does not take walk-ins today, warlock, come back another time,” the man hissed poisonously.

Magnus rolled his eyes at him, slipping the invitation out of his coat pocket again. “As I have already told your colleague at the door, I’m here as a guest for the wedding of Alec Lightwood to Lydia Branwell.”

The shadowhunter shrugged. “First of all, I don’t believe they would have invited one of your kind to such a private Shadowhunter moment, and second of all, the ceremony has already started.”

 

\-----------------

 

Alec’s hands almost shook as he closed the necklace around Lydia’s neck. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, but Alec didn’t want that, he didn’t want to marry her, not truly. He needed to, but a part of him, the part that was still alive and kicking no matter how hard he tried to stifle it, was yelling at him to stop. 

_ “It is time for Alec Lightwood and Lydia Branwell to mark each other with the Wedded Union rune. A rune on the hand, a rune on the heart, a union is born.” _

The Silent Brother’s voice was too loud. Alec tried to ignore the yelling of the part of him, and took Lydia’s hand, letting her reach back for the stele. Soon, he would be marked.

His wrist was bared and the stele was glowing, and he could almost feel the burn of the rune being carved into his flesh, marking him forever as Wedded. Everyone would think Lydia was his one love, everyone would believe in their marriage, except Alec himself.

He felt the burning tip of the stele against his skin and did not recoil. A door banged open. Lydia’s hand stopped, and they both looked up. A man came through the arched doorway of the room.

Magnus Bane.

 

\-----------------

 

For a moment, Magnus had wondered whether or not he should walk through the door and disrupt the ceremony. After all, he was a warlock arriving late to something he didn’t even belong in the attendance of. 

He couldn’t walk away either. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing past the Shadowhunter and pushing past the doors, which banged too loudly on the wall, and walk up to the aisle. He walked into a room full of Shadowhunters, a room entirely silent, a room where, wearing a cream-colored vest, Alec Lightwood was about to get married.

Alec looked beautiful. Magnus swallowed as he crossed eyes with him. They were too far away for Magnus to really be able to see into the man’s eyes whether or not he was welcome here. Alec seemed to be frozen into place, and Magnus couldn’t stop looking at him.

A woman stood up and Magnus recognized her as Maryse Lightwood. She marched down the aisle to him, fury clearly written on her features. She looked the same as she always did, just even madder.

“Magnus, leave this wedding now,” she hissed at him, not unlike the man who had accosted him before.

“Maryse, this is between me and your son,” Magnus interrupted. He was tired of this. He was tired of this woman, taking decisions for her family. This wasn’t about her, this was about Alec. “I'll leave if he asks me to.”

Magnus was there for Alec. He’d told himself it was to say goodbye, but now that he saw the man standing there, almost married, the stele almost in contact with his skin, Magnus didn’t want to say goodbye. He was there. And he was crashing this wedding, and with a bit of luck, taking the groom with him. Ragnor would be proud.

So Magnus looked back at Alexander. And waited for him to make a move. He wasn’t going to march up to him. It wasn’t his choice to make, it was Alexander’s.

Magnus knew there was a chance he would refuse his advances. A chance bigger than the one where he would accept them. Magnus was a warlock, someone they called a Downworlder. He was a warlock man, a warlock man known to have had tangles with criminal activities.

Magnus would never go back and not do the things he’d done. He would never erase the past, criminal or not. He’d loved the life he’d lead, even if it had been full of pain from beginning to end.

He didn’t wish he wasn’t who he was. He’d wished it once upon a time, he’d begged all the gods he could imagine for them to take the demonic poison from his veins and turn him into a human. And there were days where he wished his golden eyes weren’t the mark of demonic parentage, or the memory from a century spent in the claws of, under the guidance of, a deranged demon.

But he stood there, in the Institute, and looked at Alexander Lightwood, son of a long line of nephilim, heir to centuries of hatred and violence towards Magnus’ person, kind and people. He stood there, looked at him, and waited for him to make a choice that would be the right one.

Alec and his bride were exchanging words and he couldn’t hear them so he just… waited there. And Alec turned towards him.

Magnus saw the man’s eyes skirt the room for a second, before they settled on him. Magnus could barely breathe. It was as if the world had stilled, and time wasn’t passing anymore, there was just Alec, and the way he looked at him. It was too far, and Magnus knew Alec too little, to know if it was a look that meant acceptance or rejection.

He walked down the stairs of the altar. The room was silent. Magnus could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He stayed still.

Alec started walking. His steps were quick, and his eyes were still fixed on Magnus. Magnus couldn’t move. He couldn’t even move an arm or take a step back. This man was walking towards him. There was the entirety of Shadowhunter Heavenly Fire behind him. He walked towards him. His hands were relaxed. As he walked closer, they closed into fists.

Alec was going to punch him. With all his Shadowhunter strength, he was going to punch him and throw him out of the Institute and Magnus knew it.

“Enough,” Alec said, and Magnus almost took a step back then. Alec was taking the matter into his own hands. He was going to hit Magnus himself, not have others throw him out.

Alec was there. Alec was close. Alec’s lips tasted like coffee.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 17 - Morning Star Part 1
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	17. Morning Star Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! 
> 
> Second to last chapter! I cant believe it! 
> 
> If you're willing, please check out the SH 2.0. Wikia at sh20fic.fandom.com! The betas and I have been working very hard on it!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some homophobia in this, stay safe

Alec could still feel the taste of Magnus’ lips on his. It had been a couple of hours already and he still felt it, him, in his bones. He also felt the light sting of his parents’ disappointment, but that, he had been ready for. Magnus had been unexpected.

It wasn’t his first kiss. He’d kissed people before, girls, at the Academy. They’d been… inconsequential. They hadn’t changed his life. They hadn’t lit a fire in his body and soul the way Magnus had.

Alec didn’t really realize what he’d done. He knew that he didn’t regret it. He didn’t regret Magnus. He didn’t regret his wide eyes, and how beautiful he’d looked after Alec had just kissed him. How he’d chased after Alec as if he was some sweet treat that the warlock could not get enough of.

But he hated the way his mother had reacted. His father was trying, desperately, to act like everything was okay. Like he hadn’t ruined their reputation even more. Actually, he hadn’t. He’d kissed Magnus Bane. They had followed Valentine Morgenstern. He’d done absolutely nothing, compared to them.

He sighed softly, and walked up to his mother, knowing fully well what was going to happen. He tugged on the sleeves of his shirt. He’d taken off the bowtie and vest a while ago. They were stuffy.   

“Have you spoken with Lydia?” he asked.  “No one's seen her since the wedding.”

She’d exchanged a couple words with Jace, but then had completely disappeared. Alec needed to go and talk to her. Explain himself, or something. Maryse remained silent, her lips pressed into a thin line. Alec almost rolled his eyes.

“Mom, come on.”

Robert heard him and walked closer, calling her name out. She seemed to remain completely still, her eyes on the tablet she was holding. What was she even doing?

“Mom, I understand you're upset, but this is-”

She finally moved and spoke, cutting him off. “Calling off the wedding would've been one thing…” her eyes were cold. Colder than he’d ever seen them. Harsher too. As if she could barely bear to look to him. Alec swallowed. He had expected it. It still hurt. “but kissing that warlock in front of the entire Institute? You've embarrassed all of us.”

Alec took a deep breath. “Why? Because he's a guy?”

“No,” she replied, frustration obvious in her tone. “The fact that he is a guy, as you say, is the least of my worries.” That was… That wasn’t what Alec had expected from her right now. He’d expected her to rage against the fact that he liked men. In all honesty, Alec was a bit confused.

“Then what's the problem?”

“That you chose Magnus Bane.”

So it wasn’t his sex. It was his race. Magnus Bane, a warlock, a Downworlder. She said his name like it was some kind of… horrible thing.

“His reputation precedes him,” his father explained. “And even for a warlock, he's a bit of a lothario.”

That was true, Alec guessed. Magnus was… Magnus had made clear that his list of lovers wasn’t short. But it didn’t… it didn’t matter. It was a bit confusing, to Alec, but he was old. And Alec was used to how easily Jace went through lovers so… he wasn’t surprised that a warlock like Magnus… a _man as gorgeous as Magnus_ , had experience.

“Alec, there's so much that you don't know about him.”

“Please,” Alec sighed. “What are you worried about? That I’ll be one other name in the list of his lovers? I’m fine with that.” Was he? He didn’t know. He had no idea. He just wanted this hypocrisy to stop. “I might not know much about him, but I know he’s a strong leader to his people. And a very powerful warlock.”

And those were qualities that Alec was quite into. “The rest, I will learn. It’s not like I have to get married to him in a week like I did with Lydia, or like you would have wanted me to do with someone else.”

Maryse stared at him, her mouth agape. She couldn’t believe what her son was saying. He was quick to leave after that, and she was left alone with Robert. He was looking at her with a serious air. She sighed.

“What are we going to do?” She asked. “We can’t let… this happen.”

Robert sighed as well, turning to her. “The worst is done. I’m sure it already made his way to Alicante.”

Maryse closed her eyes. She didn’t want to believe it. It was over, they were done. They would never get called to the Council again, they would never have any kind of power again. All they could do now was go back to the family manor and stay there until they died. Pray that Isabelle and Max would carry the family legacy.

“Besides… now that we know… We can’t do anything about it. We both know what happens when a homosexual is forced into a life they aren’t made for.” Robert whispered.

Maryse looked up at him. She knew exactly what he was talking about. She remembered the way her brother had looked at her when she’d tried to keep him from leaving. The sorrow in his eyes as he whispered: _please, I can’t do this anymore Maisie._ She didn’t want to lose Alec, but she also didn’t want to lose her family’s place.

 

\-------------------

 

Izzy’s mind briefly replayed the sight of Lydia’s body, lying motionless on the ground, Magnus and Alec looking over her, and the blue of Magnus’ magic flowing over her. She’d looked small somehow.

Lydia had been one to take over the room since the second she’d walked into the Institute and taken off the rune that made her look like Valentine. And now, with her hair still styled for her wedding, in her usual stricter clothing… Izzy didn’t like her one bit, but she still felt strange, seeing her like this.

Was this how she would look if she was taken down? Small? Weak? Broken?

“How's Lydia?” Clary asked as Alec walked up to where Jace, Izzy and her were. Izzy sat on the chair in front of the computer, already going through files to find the one containing the camera footage. The Institute had cameras basically everywhere. They would find what they needed.

“Better. Magnus is doing what he can to help her, but it's bad. And the Cup is definitely missing,” Alec replied.

Jace inhaled deeply behind Izzy. “So is Hodge.”

If there was one thing Izzy didn’t believe, it was that Hodge could have done that to them. After all, they’d known him almost their entire life. He was a good man. He’d taught Izzy everything.

“Maybe he was attacked, too.”

She opened the file with the footage from the Head of Institute office. Clary moved in to look closer at the screen.

“Maybe he's the one who attacked her.”

“Hodge? No way. We've known him our entire lives. He would never do that to us.”

Not Hodge. Anyone but Hodge. Raj maybe, or maybe Lydia had done that to herself, or… she had no idea, but with the wedding, the entire Institute had been packed with guests. It wouldn’t have been that impossible for someone on Valentine’s side to get in and take advantage of the chaos.

And yet. The images played on the screen. Izzy didn’t know how to deal with them. They didn’t make sense. Hodge, punching Lydia so hard she was flying off.  Everyone was silent. Izzy prayed for an illusion, for him to change into another person. She didn’t want this to be true.

Hodge on the screen grabbed the Cup and walked out of the room. Alec and Jace exchanged a few words that Izzy barely registered. She switched to the next camera, showing him walking out of the room. She followed him through the corridors, through the ops room, and into the training area where Jocelyn was still asleep.

She saw him talk Luke into leaving Jocelyn’s side. He slipped on a big silver ring.

“What is that ring?” Clary asked, and Izzy zoomed in on Hodge. She couldn’t tell if it was a Seelie whisper ring or something else entirely.

“Looks like he's talking to someone,” she muttered. She was operating on autopilot.

“And I can bet who it is.”

“Valentine.” Clary’s voice was full of a barely disguised disgust. Impressive, she thought for a second.

The image showed the rune slowly disappearing from Hodge’s neck. She guessed Valentine must have been able to take it off. She didn’t really understand how, but it didn’t matter right now.

“Well, that explains how he deactivated the Punishment rune, but it doesn't explain where he got the ring.” Alec pointed out. His voice sounded a bit colder, but the hand he placed onto Izzy’s shoulder was warm.

Alec knew that she’d been close to Hodge for a long time. Where some people saw her as weaker or less lethal, Hodge had seen the potential in her. He’d seen her, and trained her, and helped her be who she is. He’d almost raised her in a way, a way Maryse hadn’t. He could feel the numbness of betrayal that came off of Izzy. He knew she would want revenge. But Jace was already almost vibrating with the desire to go and hunt him.

“You think someone smuggled it past the wards?” Clary asked.

“Maybe. Hodge wasn't the only ex-Circle member around here.”

Izzy sighed and looked back at Jace, her voice tense. “Look, I know I don't always see eye to eye with my parents, but I know they're not traitors. It’s more likely that someone took advantage of the chaos here lately.”

Alec sighed. “What about the Forsaken attack? I mean, I didn’t see a ring, but there might be something we didn’t see. After all, I was injured, and you, Izzy, were dealing with me and the Forsaken.”

Izzy opened another file, this time of the footage of the training room’s attack. The image was clear. Hodge was reaching the creature’s hand, and slipping a ring off of its finger. Alec felt Izzy tense under his fingers.

“There,” Jace whispered.

“So, it wasn't a random attack.”

Jace took a deep breath. “Alec and I will go after him. We are a few hours behind him, but we’re younger, stronger, and have been trained more lately. And we know New York more. We’ll get him.”

And with that, he walked away. Clary followed rather closely after him. Alec and Izzy remained alone. Alec moved, sitting down on the chair by Izzy’s side. He was still wearing half of the suit he’d been wearing for his wedding. She still wore the dark gold dress. It was getting kinda uncomfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“You know I’m not.”

He had a small chuckle, but it didn’t reach up to his eyes. “I know what he meant to you.”

“I… I don’t understand it, Alec. I feel like I’ve just lost… every single part of my life that made sense, in the last couple of weeks.”

Alec nodded softly. “I feel that way too. Mom and Dad, the Circle, Jace being Valentine’s son… Magnus…”

“And Clary,” Izzy added. She guessed that in some sort of twisted way Clary was her Magnus. The one that pushed open a door that Izzy hadn’t really wanted to open, hadn’t dared to think existed. “And now Hodge is gone. He betrayed us. Is it just only the two of us now?”

Alec sighed. “Jace is still our brother.”

“Is he? He’s Valentine’s son. Clary’s brother. And you know how Mom just… ignored him earlier. She ignored Jace, I thought that was impossible.”

“Mom’s upset. With the wedding. With us. With Lydia, with everyone. Probably with Jace too now.”

Izzy leaned back against the chair. “I know. Nothing’s right anymore.”

 

\------------------

 

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

Clary had just changed out of the dress she’d been wearing at the wedding, and she stood at the entrance of Jace’s bedroom.

Jace didn’t want to talk to her, not really. It was so complicated. She was his sister, but he knew her way less than he knew Izzy or Alec or Max. She was his sister, and he looked at her and didn’t see resemblance, he didn’t see something he should see. He saw a bit of Valentine, but it was drowned under the genes of a mother he didn’t know.

Jocelyn had never been his mother. Maryse had been the closest to a mother he would ever have. He didn’t want to lose them. He didn’t want to lose his family, the real one, just to go and accept Clary and Valentine and the Morgensterns as his own. Why would he want to?

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his shirt over his head and turning towards her. He’d just changed out of his wedding clothing too. Now he just had his usual stuff on. It was way more comfortable.

The wedding had been so… surprising. He’d been ready to support Alec through all of it, through being married to Lydia. Hell, he’d even been ready to give him sex tips if he needed. And now… he was still ready to support him, of course, that would never change. But it was strange, still, to see his brother kiss Magnus Bane.

Alec was homosexual. Jace already had trouble with that. Seeing him kiss a man was stranger. It was… Jace knew he needed to get used to it, that he was the one that couldn’t deal with it, he was the one that needed to change. Not Alec. Never Alec. Because Alec’s smile when he’d looked at Magnus afterwards? The softness, the light, in his smile? Jace knew that no one had the right to take it away from him.

He shook the thoughts away.

“I need to show you something, I didn’t have time for it before…”

In her hands was a box. She opened it. On the velvet interior rested a baby shoe, a strand of hair and a baby toy. He swallowed.

“What is that?”

He tried to steady his voice. Maybe he already knew what it was. She had a small smile, walking to sit on his bed.

“It belonged to my mom. Our mom.”

Over the lock, metal had been fashioned in two letters. J and C. He sighed. He didn’t want to believe it was true. He didn’t want to have the proof of his blood family; in front of him.

“Jonathan Christopher,” he whispered.

“Your name.”

This was his. This was the proof that he belonged in this family, somehow, some way. He didn’t want it. But it was just… how it was supposed to be. He didn’t have a choice. Valentine was more than the man who had raised him, he was truly his father. His name wasn’t Jonathan Christopher Wayland. It was Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern.

“Our mom loved you. She thought she’d lost you but, she never stopped loving you.”

Jace sighed, closing the box. “You don’t know that. And… it doesn’t change anything.”

“Isn’t it the proof you needed that she loved you? That you had a family?”

Jace stood up. “I already have a family; Clary. I have the Lightwoods. And Jocelyn will never be my mom, the way Valentine will never be your dad. Luke is your dad. And my mom? My mom doesn’t exist. She never has. I don’t even have a memory of her.”

He could feel the anger raging inside of him, and he hated it. He hated that he was Valentine’s son, his real son. That no matter how he tried, Michael Wayland was dead, and Valentine was his father.

“I don’t want her to be my mother.”

Clary stood up. “I get it.” Her voice said she did not. Jace didn’t want to tell her more right now. He just wanted to go after Hodge, and take the Cup from him before he could reach Valentine.

He didn’t want to run after her when she left and tell that no, it didn’t mean that he didn’t want her as a sister. He didn’t really care about her being his sister, it wasn’t the point of all of this. He didn’t want Valentine to be his father, he didn’t want Jocelyn to be his mother, and he felt like, if he was to accept them, he would lose the Lightwoods.

It had already started. Maryse didn’t look at him the way she used to. The change was perceptible enough. She wasn’t his mother anymore. He didn’t belong anymore in her eyes and he couldn’t stand it.

  


\-----------------

  


Ragnor walked through the doors of the New York Institute. He didn’t like Institutes. They were so cold. Nephilim stared at his unglamoured horns. Or maybe they stared at Magnus, the man who had stolen the groom, as he led him through the corridors, and to a table.

Two women stood there. A dark-haired one, and Clary Fairchild. Ragnor sent his friend a look.

“I’m not even going to get to meet the one that made you ruin yet another wedding? How rude of him.”

The dark-haired woman chuckled. “My brother had to go and get the Mortal Cup back. I’m sure he will be quite happy to meet all of Magnus’ friends once he’s back.”

This one was beautiful. If the beauty ran in the family, Ragnor could definitely understand exactly why Magnus had been prompted to do what he did. That made him think…

“Dear, how tall is your brother?” He asked.

Next to him, Magnus cleared his throat. Oh no, he was not going to pass on the opportunity to mock his friend. He would never. Even death would not be enough to keep him from teasing him.

“He’s 191,” the woman obliged.

“Ha!” Ragnor laughed. “Then all is explained.”

Tall men were a weakness Magnus had never been able to resist. Tall, powerful men. Ragnor had seen his friend _swoon_ for several of these kinds of men in the past. How delightful was it to see that height was still his downfall?

Magnus glared at him. “Can we _please_ get to the matter at hand?”

Ragnor laughed. “Of course, kitten, of course.” He walked towards the table more, nodding towards the woman who had given him this wonderful information. Information that would be shared with Catarina as soon as possible.

Everything about the way Magnus sighed and looked at him said that he knew very well that he wasn’t going to live any of this down.

Ragnor sat down in the chair and smiled. “So I heard you are still looking for the Book of the White?” he asked.

Clary Fairchild nodded. “We are. It seems to be the only way to wake up my mother, as you very well know, Ragnor.”

“I don’t have it,” he said. “I haven’t, in a long time, actually. I have its….bookmark, but the rest…”

Her face contorted in something half angry and half disappointed. It seemed she’d been expecting more from him. He would give her more, of course. He just always enjoyed seeing nephilim squirm.They were so entertaining to watch, and to act against.

The dark-haired woman hummed. “And you haven’t tried tracking the current person that has the Book? You could do that right?”

Clary Fairchild’s semi-glare got even more intense. This one was fierce in wanting to help her family. It was always a quality, though it could feel like a default if you were on the wrong end of it.

The Fairchilds had never really been the most ferocious of nephili families. The way she acted was very remnant of the Morgensterns though. Jocelyn Fairchild had maybe been quite… active in the protection of her daughter, but that specific vengeful fire? Pure Morning Star.

Ragnor had been alive for almost twice as long as Magnus had. He’d seen more than his wonderful protégé could ever imagine, he’d seen war and death far beyond… and he’d seen the very first Clave. He’d met the handful of nephilim that, a century after their creation, constituted their first government.

He remembered times where the Clave and the Shadow Kinds were allies fighting for the Olam Ha-Ba. He missed those times. He missed his nephili friends, the one whose eyes were full of awe for the magic that flowed out of his fingertips. There were children with only one dark rune on their bodies, tracing his horns gently.

Now they stared, mocked and belittled, and Ragnor hadn’t been able to stand it for very long. That was why he’d stopped working as High Warlock of London. He just wanted to be left alone.

“Cabbage,” Magnus muttered next to him, and Ragnor came back to the land of the Living.

He licked his lips and finally replied. “I didn’t want to go and look. Dorothea had hidden the Book away for a reason, and I did not want to be the one to give away its location.”

“Now, I want you to give it away,” Clary Fairchild replied.

Ragnor sighed, and turned to his friend. Magnus took in his hand the ornate bookmark, knowing Ragnor’s magic was low, after the demon attack he’d only barely survived.

Ragnor knew how it felt to hold such artefact, when you were attuned to magic. Nephilim couldn’t feel the ley lines or the magic currents like warlocks or seelies could.

Magnus’ shoulders tensed, then slumped in a very characteristic way. The frustration and annoyance that read through his eyes could only mean one thing.

“The Book of the White is in possession of Camille Belcourt,” Magnus said, putting the bookmark down. This time there was a deliberate annoyance in his gesture, as if he couldn’t bear to feel the artefact against his skin now that he knew where it belonged.

The wounds that Camille had left might never close. Ragnor knew that. But did the Shadowhunter know? Did the man that Magnus seemed to be so head-over-heels for know that Magnus’ heart had been fractured too many times, so many times that pieces had been left missing?

Ragnor hoped he knew. He hoped the Shadowhunter would take care of Magnus’ heart, because if there was one thing that defined Magnus, it was his heart.

Clary sighed. “Well I guess we have to take a trip to the Hotel Du Mort.”

  


\---------------

  


He had earned his freedom. He’d done well. Hodge could still hear Valentine’s words. He could still feel the happiness at hearing those words that he’d wanted to hear for almost two decades.

And now? Now he was alone, and he could hear the wolves. Everything he’d done for the man he thought was his friend, it had given him nothing but pain and sorrow in result.

 _Traitor. You will no longer bother me._ Hodge had given up everything for Valentine, and he was alone, and he was left on the side of the road, to be hunted down and killed by the Clave. He knew what would happen to him if they found him. The Gard, and then, execution.

He didn’t want to die. That was the only thing that was pushing him forward now. Fear that he would be caught and that he would be killed.

The wolves that were tracking him howled. He swallowed. He’d rather be killed by the Clave than be mauled by wolves. His death would be more honorable if served by his own kind. He watched as the beast that was closest to him ran off in the distance, following its leader’s call.

That was his time. He took a step.

The next second, Jace was holding him against the pillar he’d been hidden behind, a snarl on his face. He’d seen that look on the boy’s face before, but he’d never really been on the receiving end of Jace’s skills. It was better than the wolves.

“Where is it?”

Jace really believed he’d caught him before he’d given the Cup to Valentine? That was almost adorable in its naivety. Jace should have known better than to think he could have caught up with Hodge’s several hours of advance. Hodge hadn’t been outside in a while, maybe, but he was still a fierce soldier.

“Jace, I'm afraid you're too late.” The man’s grip on him made it a bit harder than expected to talk. “Valentine already has the Cup.”

The anger and betrayal written all over Jace’s features almost made Hodge laugh. He really hadn’t seen it coming. None of them had. They really thought the bitterness in Hodge’s voice when he spoke of the rune, or of the Lightwoods was just play. Hodge had never been satisfied.

Hodge took the opportunity to try and slide from Jace’s grip. He managed, somewhat, for a moment, but his back soon hit the pillar again, radiating pain down his spine this time.

“How could you?”

“It was the only way to earn my freedom.” He panted as he moved back. This time, Jace didn’t come after him. Maybe he was expecting a fight. That, Hodge could win. After all, Jace was his pupil. “I'd been caged long enough.”

Seeing something that wasn’t the walls of the Institute had felt like bliss. Short lived, maybe, but bliss nonetheless.

“Caged? You were our teacher. We treated you like family.”

Hodge huffed. Children. They were all children unaware that adults had more complex lives than they could imagine. Children that only saw him as the teacher, the training master, hard-ass but good-natured and happy to help.

“I was never your family, Jace. The only reason I was ever in the Institute was because of the punishment.”

“But you cared for us!” The plight of a betrayed child. Hodge was tired of the way Jace looked at him. He didn’t really understand how they really could have expected him to be different.

“You were children, with great potential. What else was I going to do?”

He could feel the man’s rage now. It surprised him that his rage didn’t look like Valentine’s. There was no great family resemblance in the way his face contorted with anger. Surprising. Maybe it was Jocelyn’s. Hodge had never seen her enraged.

“Come on, boy,” he taunted. “You know you can’t win. I’d love to let you have a go, but remember I taught you everything you know.”

Hodge slid the chakram out of their sheaths, and got ready for a fight. Jace unsheathed a dual-ended seraph spear. This one could hurt pretty hard, especially Downworlders. Good thing Hodge wasn’t one.

Jace lunged at him, and Hodge almost rolled his eyes. Jace’s fighting style had always been so similar. So many moves he liked repeating. There were times where the way Jace’s hands contracted was enough for Hodge to know exactly what he was going to do.

It was almost annoying sometimes. And Jace realized that quickly. He realized that Hodge was matching his every motion, blow for blow, parry for parry, predicting his every move.

Jace needed to fight differently. He needed to fight the way he hated fighting, the way that had been taught to him by someone that wasn’t Hodge.

He wished he could cleanse himself of those teachings, and start anew from someone who wouldn’t betray him, and yet he couldn’t. The way his fingers bore the scars of torn skin and broken bones, his muscles had the memory of Valentine’s teachings etched into them, carved with the point of Valentine’s hunting knife.

“Not everything, Hodge.”

He sighed, and closed his eyes, and attacked. His fist collided with Hodge’s shoulder, full force. The tutor had been expecting him to use his other hand, the one that had, until a second ago, been holding the spear.

Hodge’s hand opened without him meaning to, and he dropped the chakram. Another punch caught him at the jaw  and sent him tumbling back. Jace had his strength rune activated, and Hodge felt it in his bones.

Jace hit him again and again, fist, elbow, and head crashing against Hodge’s face, until he was hitting the ground. He rolled over, but the man was already on top of him, seraph blade ready.

They fought again, the blade clashing against the remaining chakram. A second of dizziness was enough for Jace to hit him hard enough that Hodge’s back hit the ground. Jace saw the armed hand, raised still, as Hodge was trying to get back up to hit him again. He didn’t hesitate.

The seraph blade cut off the joint easily, and Jace’s scream mixed with Hodge’s. The hand wasn’t enough, but it was nice already. Jace wanted to kill him for what he’d done. For what he was. A Circle member.

 

\-----------------

  


Izzy disliked the ambiance of the Hotel DuMort. Especially when she came there without the jurisdiction of the Clave to back her up. Being alone and without power in the place where all these vampires lived wasn’t the most comfortable of feelings.

Izzy preferred being in control, she’d always had. When she was, she could accomplish anything. But these days, she was less and less in control of her own life. Clary’s presence made her spiral out of control, made her think differently. Before, the center of her attention, the reason why she did what she did was duty. Now it was Clary. No matter how hard she tried not to, she gravitated towards the woman.

Raphael looked up at them as Clary and Izzy stepped into the main lounge of the DuMort, where they usually entertained guests. Izzy had never really seen much of the rest of it, keeping into the more public parts of the building, even when she came through the back door like she had weeks ago.

“For Shadowhunters, you don't seem to do a lot of Shadowhunting,” the clan leader huffed, looking at the two Shadowhunters with a raised eyebrow. By his side, Simon stood up.

He shot Izzy a curious look.

“There is more to the job than killing demons,” Izzy scoffed. She disliked the way Raphael talked to her. He did not understand the Shadowhunters’ mission. He didn’t understand anything, really.

“We need to talk to Camille,” Clary explained. “Warlocks tracked her to the DuMort. She has the Book of the White.”

Raphael winced, looking at the two women. “I’m sorry, but it’s not going to be possible. We do have her, but she’s in solitary confinement right now. We’re letting her dry up a little to remind her who the boss is.”

Dry up? They were starving her? Izzy hummed. That seemed barbaric.

Simon took Raphael’s arm and pulled him away for a second, probably to try and plead their cause. Izzy turned towards Clary. There was something a bit hard in her eyes. It told Izzy that she was willing to do many, many things to get her mom back. Izzy hoped that she was willing to do those things to stop Valentine too.

It hadn’t escaped her that Clary and Jace were in a tumultuous situation. Jace was closed off, even more so than he usually was. He’d never been much for emotional outbursts, none of them were, but right now? It seemed to be worse than ever.

Izzy guessed she understood. She didn’t know what she would do if someone told her her father was not only someone completely different, but also the Clave’s Most Wanted.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, and Clary looked at her.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I’m just taking it one thing at a time. Right now, we need Camille, and then we need the Book, and then, we need to wake my mom. And we need to take down Valentine. The rest of it… I’ll see.”

Clary’s life was in ruins and Izzy wished she could fix it. She wished she could make Simon a mundane again, she wished she could bring Jocelyn back in a snap of fingers, and undo all the things that had happened to Clary. Even if it meant that they would have never met.

She gently squeezed Clary’s arm, trying to give her as much comfort as she could. “Everything’s going to be okay,” she said, and she was really trying to convince herself as well.

“I'll bring you what's left of Camille's things, but speaking to her is out of the question.”

So Simon had failed, it seemed. Great. They needed a plan. They needed a distraction, while Simon went and got Camille to tell them where everything was.

“Her things?” Clary huffed. “This isn't the kind of book she would've just left sitting around.”

“I'm sorry but that's the best I can do.”

“It’s not good enough!” Clary hissed, taking a step closer to the vampire.

Simon stepped up in between the two of them. “Clary, please, I know you’re upset, but this is not going to help.”

Raphael hummed. “Listen to your friend, Shadowhunter. Camille stays where she is.”

“You're making a huge mistake.”

The threat was clear in Clary’s voice, and Izzy was wholeheartedly on her side. But they didn’t have any power right now. They were just two shadowhunters running around doing something behind the Clave’s back. She could already feel her mother’s anger.

Izzy took a deep breath. “Alright. Raphael, take me to see Camille’s things. There might still be something of interest there. Clary is obviously upset, so Simon should stay with her while I deal with that.”

She sent the two of them a pointed look and prayed that they were taking the hint. She turned back to Raphael and put on her most seductive smile. “Please, Raphael. I apologize for my friend’s temper. It’s a difficult time for her.”

She left Simon and Clary behind, slipping her arm through Raphael’s, and pulling her towards the corridor. He was a man after all. Men usually let themselves be played by her charm. She missed Raphael’s obvious roll of eyes.

“Thank you for the apology,” he said, as they walked down to the basement. “But your seduction isn’t working on me, Shadowhunter.”

Izzy let go of his arm immediately. They took some stairs down to one of the storage rooms. In the middle of the room, there was a table, and on that table, an array of various knick-knacks. Decorative.

She looked around the table, going around every object. She knew to take her time. After all, she was the diversion. Clary and Simon needed time to get to Camille and get her out of there, or at least get the location of the Book of the White.

“So these are all of Camille's things?” she asked. It seemed fairly uninteresting. She’d thought Camille would have more shiny stuff. After all, she was an old vampire. Vampires, like warlocks, tended to like shiny and expensive artefacts. She almost sighed at the memory of the things she’d seen in Magnus’ apartment.

“All I could find.” Raphael replied. “But she has hideouts all over the city.”

And all over the world too, probably. That would be hell to go through, if they weren’t able to talk to Camille or get her the location of the Book. They didn’t have weeks. With the Cup in Valentine’s hands…

“Interesting,” Izzy hummed, picking up a crucifix and looking over it. Mundanes and their religions. She didn’t really understand it. Why believe in something that didn’t exist? What could it bring to them? They would never even see one of their gods.

“I thought you were looking for a spell book,” the vampire pointed out as she turned her attention to a small vase on the table.

“We are.”

The vampire looked up at her. “So what are you doing looking at things that aren’t books?”

Izzy shrugged. “Well, the last piece of the Book we found was its bookmark. There could very well be another artefact here that belongs to it. Like this candle.” She pointed at a dark purple candle, that was already partly melted. “The Candle of the White.”

Raphael nodded. “You’re bullshitting me.”

Izzy hummed, looking at her phone. “It only took you fifteen minutes to realize.”

Raphael rolled his eyes. “Shadowhunters.” In a blink of an eye, he had ran back upstairs.

Izzy chuckled, and followed him at her pace. There wasn’t anything interesting for her here. She hoped Simon and Clary had managed to get information from Camille, or at least managed to sneak her out in time.

She walked through the corridors, sighing a little as she heard the echoes of a heated conversation. Conversation that included an unknown voice. A voice she guessed was probably Camille’s. She walked up to them.

“If you attack us in your own home, you’ll have broken the Accords,” she reminded, just as the vampires were about to launch at them, fangs bared. “And you don’t want to see us exact the Justice of the Angels.”

The threat made them back up. Clary and Simon sent her a strange look, but Izzy shrugged and ignored them. “Camille comes with us. If you have to ask any question, we’ll tell you we’ve learned that she had Turned Simon. You can do nothing against us.”

Raphael hissed at her. “We won’t forget it, Shadowhunter.”

Izzy chuckled. “Adios.”

They slipped out of the DuMort and into the underground tunnels. They’d all seen the sunlight outside. Clary wasn’t ready to lose her best chance at bringing her mother back to consciousness.

She needed her mom. And her mom could help defeat Valentine. It helped to know that waking her up could help the bigger picture. She didn’t feel like she was being a bad person for putting her own family first.

Camille was scary, in her own way. She had her own motives, her own life. It was strange for Clary to meet someone so… removed from everything else in her life. She’d only seen vampires in their relationship to the Accords and the Clave. She’d only seen them as either breaking the Accords or upholding them. She’d seen them fighting for their survival in a way, or following her.

She hadn’t seen them living outside of the sphere of influence of the Clave. Even Magnus’ apartment had been a workplace. Now she was following a vampire into said vamp’s own territory. It was strange. It felt like she wasn’t exactly the one in power here, even if Izzy and her could make quick work of Camille and Simon if needed.

She realized she’d just thought of Simon as an enemy. She tried to think about something else. “So where’s that apartment you were talking about?”

“I told you, Upper East Side. The good area. I’ve always had a liking for a rather… uptown lifestyle,” Camille said with a pointed yawn.

“The Upper East Side isn’t exactly a small area to look through.” Simon huffed.

“Patience, my dear-” Camille started, before Clary snapped, grabbing her seraph blade and holding it closer to Camille’s throat.

“Enough! Just because we got you out doesn't mean I won't kill you right here.” Clary hissed.

Camille had a small laugh. “And yet the second I go up in smoke, so does any hope of you finding your precious book. And then, bye bye Jocelyn Fairchild.”

Clary moved closer to her. She wanted to hurt her. She wanted to kill her, because she’d killed Simon, she was the one responsible for turning Simon into this monster. If she killed Camille, then all was gone, and Simon was avenged. And maybe it would also alleviate the guilt she felt towards that part of her latest actions.

“What do you want that will make you shut up and just give us the address?” Simon asked, allowing Clary to come back to the situation and move back a little.

“A Writ of Transmutation.” Camille smirked.

“What the hell is that?” He asked, confused. Clary was confused as well, and was already dreading the explanation. Every time she learned something about this world, it ended up a bigger mess than it already was. And the other vampire’s smug smirk was too annoying for it to be innocent.

“A document stating you asked her to turn you into a vampire.” Izzy explained. Thank God for Izzy’s knowledge. Without it, Clary would be dead now.

“Signed and sealed in your blood, of course.” Camille purred, reaching to trace Simon’s cheek. Simon moved back, a shudder visibly running through his body.

“Haven't you had enough of my blood?”

“Never. And I definitely don't want the Clave to falsely accuse me of killing mundanes.”

“Even if it is what you have been doing?” Clary hissed at her.

Camille rolled her eyes. “You’re lovely, doll, but sometimes, it’s like you don’t understand a word of what’s going on. What I allegedly did is something that I hypothetically don’t want the Clave to come after me for.”

“So what? You want Simon to pardon you?”

“Exactly,” Camille had a small shrug. “Besides, it’s not like you have a choice. I keep talking, you get angry, and poof goes the chances of ever hugging your mommy hello.”

Simon sighed. “Fine. I’ll write it for you.”

“We’ll need to see a friend of mine to draft it.”

The gleam in Camille’s eyes didn’t exactly make Clary comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! See you next week, same time, same place, for chapter 18 - Morning Star Part 2
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!


	18. Morning Star Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. 
> 
> This is the last chapter of season 1. 
> 
> It's emotional, truly. It's so emotional for me. We finally are here. It feels both amazing and sad. I don't want season 1 to be over just yet.  
> Following this week will become a long hiatus until I have enough chapters of season 2 ready to get to posting. In the mid-time, I will be posting regular updates on @enkelimagnus on tumblr, as well as on the wiki sometimes. 
> 
> If you're willing, please check out the SH 2.0. Wikia at sh20fic.fandom.com! The betas and I have been working very hard on it!
> 
> Thank you so much for staying with me through this journey. If you made it this far, thank you.  
> I love you guys. Thanks for the amazing support I got from all of you. 
> 
> Kisses.  
> Agathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some homophobia

Camille looked good. She always did, after all. He’d never seen her look anything less than perfect, in a way that was almost unnerving. Magnus didn’t want to see her. From the looks of it, she was enjoying that fact deeply. 

She pushed past him and walked deeper into the apartment. Her steps were sure, as if she was at home in his space, as if she belonged here. She didn’t. Magnus swallowed and put on the mask of disinterest. 

“So, Magnus, how long has it been? One hundred? One hundred fifty years?” Her voice was almost mocking. She knew he knew exactly how long. She was mocking that very fact. 

“One hundred and thirty-eight. Oddly, I haven't missed you.”

She turned back towards him and their eyes met. He was reminded again of why exactly Camille was so lethal. She was too good at playing with people. Even better at playing with people like him. 

“Of course you have, my love.”

_ My love. _ The word sounded wrong on her lips, because they both knew that she didn’t love him. She never had. He steeled his expression and looked right back at her, defying the very idea of missing her. 

He had missed her, briefly, at the very end of their relationship. 1878. That had been so long ago. He’d changed so much. He’d hardened himself. He’d made sure he wouldn’t end up like he had after she’d left him again. 

“All right, you two can catch up later. Right now, we need to find the Book of the White.”

Clary’s voice felt almost like background noise, as Magnus kept the staring contest going. He wasn’t going to show any vulnerability. 

“And you will,” Camille replied. She was now the first to have looked away, “but not without payment.” Her eyes went back to Magnus. He swallowed. He had not missed the way she looked at him like he was prey. “You of all people should understand that.”

“Of course. And what is it you require?” Money? Favors? Potions? Sex?” That last one was where Magnus drew the line. He would not fall back into her grasp, no matter how hard she tried. And there was Alexander now.

“A clean slate.”

That was a relief.

“She wants a Writ of Turning-Me-Into-A-Vampire,” the young man pointed out. Who even was this kid? Some poor soul that had found his way into Camille’s claws? 

“And we need you to draft it.” So demanding. Magnus just wanted Camille out of his apartment. The reasoning behind all of it. Why would a Writ even matter to finding the Book of the White? Magnus found himself deeply unable to care about the specifics. 

“I thought I was done with you.”

“We'll never be done with each other,” Camille promised, her smirk making Magnus’ skin crawl. She was an immortal. And so was he. They were bound to meet up again some day. That was just… a bad thought. 

As Clary and the vampire kid - Simon? - walked out of the room, Magnus kept her eyes on Camille. He didn’t trust her for a single second. How dared she come here with this request? He knew why, deep down. She knew he would do anything to get her out of his life as quickly as he could. That he would give her everything she wanted. And she had always loved watching him squirm. 

He remembered the way she talked to him, the way she acted around him, the way she would sometimes push him into situations he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. He remembered how she enjoyed the darkest sides of him almost as much as she enjoyed making him miserable. He remembered her nails digging in his skin, and he remembered her smirks and her “you love it, don’t you, sweetheart”s and the way he always replied “yes”. 

Ragnor was currently at Catarina’s for some check-ups following the demon attack. Magnus was grateful he wasn’t around. He wouldn’t take well to Camille’s presence, or even how he was about to give her what she wanted.

“You always were so pretty when you were thinking,” Camille hummed, reaching to touch his cheek. Magnus moved away immediately. He left her behind as he walked towards his office, getting a piece of paper from the desk. He put it down on the main table, and got to work on drafting the paper. It was rather simple, and he knew the structure well. 

Here he was again. Drafting a Writ of Transmutation for Camille. As he’d done hundreds and thousands of times before. 

“I knew you would remember how to do it.” 

Magnus didn’t reply. Camille huffed and rolled her eyes. 

“You're still upset by my dalliance with that short-lived Russian?” She spoke as if the only reason he wouldn’t want to talk to her would be because his heart was still broken.

“Upset? No,” he mocked. “I gave up feeling anything for you over a century ago.”

“Love is fleeting,” she said softly. She was too close to him and he was so uncomfortable. She still wore the same perfume and it broke back too many memories. “Even more so when you're immortal.” 

“And yet true love cannot die.”

“But people can.”  _ People _ . They were just nothing to her, nobody really mattered to her. They were like flowers. Pretty and then wilted so quickly. She’d told him that once. “ _ Mortals are like those bouquets you bring to me, pretty and fun for a while before they rot.” _

“People are more than just toys for your amusement,” he snapped in reply. 

“Hundreds of years old and still so naive,” she talked and looked at him as if he was a child she was teaching a hard, but true, lesson to. He guessed he was naive. He guessed he was naive to hope that there would be a true love for him one day. 

“You wouldn't know what to do with love if you found it,” she continued. It wasn’t the first time she said that to him. It wasn’t the first time she said that he didn’t know what love even was. That he would always ruin it. That she was the only one who would ever give him what he deserved. 

He swallowed, looking away. He felt her joy as she walked around him, circled him like he was a tasty piece of meat. He’d let her drink from him before. When they were together and he thought she loved him. She asked for his blood, she tasted him and she spent the night close to him, drunk on the magic in his DNA. She said he tasted like angels, a little. Magnus was the closest she would ever get from tasting an angel. 

“Or do you think you already have?” The pity in her tone made him angry. How dared she mock what he’d found? The beauty in Alexander? The warmth of him? 

He stayed still, didn’t reply. She was right, in a way. He thought of Alexander as love. As someone who would care for him, when all they had was attraction and one kiss. One wonderful, passionate kiss that had sent Magnus’ head reeling from the strength of it, from the firmness in the way Alec kissed him, and held him close. There was nowhere for him to go but towards him, and Magnus wanted to close his eyes and savor the memory of it but-

“Angel blood.”

He blinked, and suddenly she’d forced him around, grabbed him, and kissed him. He hated her firmness. He pushed her back the second he could, but the damage was done. 

Heels clicked against the floor, and Alec and Izzy stood there. Alec stared at him as if he’d betrayed him. Magnus’ heart stopped. He needed to tell Alec that it wasn’t true, that he hadn’t wanted it, that Camille had forced him, that he wanted Alec and no one else. That it wasn’t a lie. 

“Well, this is awkward,” Magnus said. 

“Where’s the book?” Alec’s eyes were cold. His words were just as cold. They were professional and to the point, as if he was trying to shut himself off. Magnus wanted to run to him and tell him everything was okay, that it wasn’t true. 

“It's complicated,” was all he said, a nervous chuckle in his voice.

“Clearly.” Cold. So cold. Magnus took a step closer. He wanted to beg for forgiveness for something she’d done. He wanted to tell him it was not true.

“I have it,” Camille pointed out. Magnus could feel the delight in her voice.

“And she's graciously offered it in exchange for her freedom.” He explained.

“And her freedom requires a lip-lock?” Izzy pointed out. Magnus motionned at her to stop. Her words were full of unbridled judgement.

Alec walked to Camille, staring down at her. “We don't negotiate with prisoners.”

Camille huffed. “Prisoner? I beg to disagree. You see, I'm your only chance at saving the world. You need me.” Magnus was motioning to the two Shadowhunters, trying to make it clear that she wasn’t right and that he wasn’t responsible for the kiss and that she wasn’t in her right mind.

“You certainly have a type, don't you, Magnus?” Camille added, looking at Alec with something Magnus knew was her predatory appraisal stare. “He's cute. Too bad it won't last,” she shrugged. 

“Say that again you won't last,” Izzy snapped. 

Magnus just wanted it all to stop. He wanted it to be over, he wanted to kick Camille out, and stop her from talking more, for saying more things that would probably be true, and that Magnus didn’t want to talk about now. He’d only just found Alec. He didn’t want to think too far into the future. 

“I'd say he's about 20 years from male pattern baldness.”

Alec rolled his eyes, and snapped. “I don't have time for this,” he said, staring at Magnus. “Where’s Clary?” 

Magnus wordlessly pointed towards the guest room. Camille was delighted of the chaos she’d caused. Magnus closed his eyes for a second. He was so angry. And scared. Of losing Alec when he’d just found him. 

 

\--------------

 

The docks were a little far when you were going by foot and were dragging around a wounded prisoner who had no real desire to go where you were forcing him to go. Fortunately for both Jace and Hodge, they were glamoured, and they weren’t bumping into any Circle member. 

Which should have been the first clue that Valentine had changed locations. When they stopped at the end of the dock and only the open ocean stood in front of them, Jace knew that something was wrong. His gut feeling at the lack of guards was right. 

He pulled at Hodge’s hair, forcing him to bend backwards in an uncomfortable position. Pain was written over the man’s face, and for a short moment, Jace enjoyed it. That was all that traitor deserved. “Where is he?” he asked. 

“He was here.”

“Where is he?” Jace said louder this time.

“I don't know, he was here!” Hodge replied. 

Jace sighed and threw him to the side, walking towards the empty sea. He needed to get to Valentine. He needed to get to him so he could kill him and stop him from using the Cup. And so he could get revenge for everything he’d done to him. 

He took the ring out of his pocket. He didn’t feel that comfortable with using it, but it seemed to be the only way he had to contact Valentine. His father. He snarled at the thought, and slid the ring on.

Within a second, Valentine was standing in front of him. 

“Ah, Jonathan. To what do I owe this surprise?” He sounded absolutely not surprised. Jace had the feeling he’d been expecting him, that he’d known he would try to get to him, and fail. 

“I've reconsidered your offer.” Jace lied. 

“First you want to kill me, then you want to join me,” Valentine said. “Seems a bit convenient, don't you think?” 

Jace couldn’t school his features not to show that he hated Valentine. He knew it was written all over his face. He couldn’t stop himself. He’d never really been much of the manipulative kind. Not consciously, anyway. That was more Izzy’s thing. 

“Do you want to meet me or not?” He snapped. 

“Yes. But on my terms, not yours,” Valentine said, and Jace was acutely aware that he wasn’t in power, that he wasn’t in control. ‘' I've taught you better than this.” The reminder that Valentine had  _ taught _ him all these things. That he had been the one behind Michael Wayland. That he was his  _ father….  _ It was all too much. 

“Always strike where your opponent is vulnerable.” Valentine continued. Jace’s blood froze. “See, fighting you directly could prove difficult. But your friends... Well, your friends are a different matter.” And on that, he cut the connection. 

Jace stood alone on the dock, with only the pants and whines of Hodge behind him. His friends. His family. Alec, Izzy, Clary…. He needed to do something, to warn them. He turned around and slapped a tracking rune on Hodge so the Institute would be able to find him easily. 

Jace slid his phone out of his pocket, as he started walking. He dialled Clary’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. Fuck. 

“Pick up. Come on, pick up.” he mumbled, but all he heard was the voicemail message.  _ You've reached Clary's phone. I'm not here, but you know the deal. _

“Damn it.” Jace swore. “Where are you?” 

_ Leave one at the beep. _

“Clary, call me as soon as you get this.” 

 

\----------------

  
  


“So. Checking the perimeter?” Magnus asked, raising an eyebrow as he walked alongside Alec into the corridors of Camille’s maze-like apartment.  

Alec had a small nervous chuckle. “Yeah. I… I needed some time alone with you.” 

Alec didn’t know what to think right now. Magnus was… Magnus was so special. And then he’d walked in on him kissing Camille. Or maybe Camille kissing him was a more accurate description of what he’d seen. The way that woman talked made him doubt everything. 

Magnus was… immortal too. And Camille seemed to know him in ways that Alec would never know him, no matter how hard he tried, because while Magnus and Camille had had lifetimes to know each other… Alec had only his lifetime.  _ 20 years from male pattern baldness.   _ If he had 20 years to live. 

Being a Shadowhunter meant you died young. Alec was 23. In 20 years, he would be the age of his mother. Only half of the Shadowhunters made it past 40. She’d been lucky that she hadn’t been into the field since the Uprising.

“It’s about Camille.” Magnus said. It didn’t sound like a question. 

Alec swallowed. “Yeah. It’s about Camille. You… and her… earlier. She kissed you.”

“She did. She wanted to hurt me. Hurt us.” Magnus explained. Alec looked at him. The man was looking at the floor, or the wall as he walked. 

“Us?” Alec asked softly. The word sounded strange. A part of him wanted to deny everything and go ‘there’s no us to talk about. This was just a fluke’. But he knew it wasn’t the truth. The truth was that kissing Magnus had felt better than he could have ever imagined. The truth was that the idea of an ‘us’ made him smile like an idiot. 

“She… She doesn’t understand love. She never has been able to love someone, truly love someone. For long, she convinced me that she did love me, but she didn’t,” Magnus explained. 

“Oh.” She was  _ that  _ kind of ex. 

“She doesn’t believe in love, but that doesn’t stop her from wanting to stop me from ever reaching it. After she broke my heart, she knew that I wouldn’t love anyone else for a long time. And now that you’re here, she wants to make sure that I cannot have you either.” 

Alec hummed. “That’s what you meant then. When we had drinks at your apartment.  _ For almost a century I've closed myself off to feeling anything for anyone. _ ”

Magnus chuckled. “You have good memory,” he complimented, before nodding. “And yes. That’s what I meant. She broke me. She killed me, in a way, for so long, and then… you came along. And for some reason you made me care.” 

The man was telling him so many things. Alec didn’t know how to reply to him, what to say in answer. He talked quickly, as if he was trying to justify himself over and over again. Alec guessed he understood. 

“So, her kissing you. It really meant nothing?” Alec asked after a moment. 

Magnus stopped, and looked at him. “It really meant nothing.” 

His eyes were wide and hopeful, so dark and beautiful, and Alec stopped breathing for a second at the sight of him. His eyeshadow was dark and smudged over his eyes, under them, in a way Alec found incredibly appealing. 

He took a step towards the man. Magnus looked at him a bit nervously. Alec took another step towards him. There wasn’t any color in his hair that day. He’d seen him with gold streaks and pink streaks, but today it was just dark hair. His clothes looked comfortable too. Boots, soft-looking burgundy pants, a darker-red shirt, just as soft-looking, a vest, that red scarf, and those rings. Maybe not that comfortable, with all the metal elements on his hands, and on the shoulders of his velvet jacket but… Alec was definitely enjoying the look. 

Especially the way the necklace rested tight on Magnus’ neck, right below his adam’s apple. Somehow, he found himself close to the man. Magnus’ back was against the wall and he was looking at him with wide eyes again, waiting. Alec moved even closer. He could almost feel the man’s breathing against his torso. 

He swallowed. “I want to kiss you.”

“Curious to see if yesterday’s wedding interruption wasn’t a one-time only?” Magnus joked, but Alec could see the way he was looking at his lips. He was only trying to dissolve the tension between the two of them. The tension wouldn’t subside. 

“Let me kiss you?” 

Magnus had a small chuckle. “Of course.” 

Alec leaned in, bracing himself against the wall a little, and he gently kissed Magnus’ lips. They were soft. He closed his eyes. Magnus’ hand rested against Alec’s heart. With the hand that wasn’t against the wall, Alec touched the man’s waist, bringing him closer. Their bodies pressed against each other. 

Magnus opened his mouth, and Alec took the invitation, and deepened the kiss. Maybe a part of Alec saw this as a fuck you to Camille. The way Magnus kissed him back like he was starved for his touch was in definite contrast with how he’d looked with Camille earlier. And they also were in her home. 

They pulled back a second to get some air, but Magnus chased his lips quickly afterwards. Alec let him take control for a moment. Fuck, he was a good kisser. And his body fit perfectly against Alec’s. Alec tightened his hold on him a little and Magnus gasped softly against him. Definitely touch-starved. 

Alec needed to fix that. 

Magnus let Alec kiss him ardently, the warmth and the rush of giddiness making him smile against the man’s lips. He was insistent, firm, the same firmness Magnus had felt during their first kiss. So it wasn’t just because he had been taking control of his life. It was just how Alec was. Magnus sighed happily at the thought. 

They kissed longer, hands starting a slow exploration of each other’s bodies. Magnus hadn’t felt this elated in decades. Alec’s mouth was like a drug, and he wanted more. So much more. Not only of his mouth, but of that firm, toned body against his. The way Alec held him almost made his head spin. 

He was about to get into another kiss, when Alec froze against him. Magnus blinked. He felt something sharp press against the side of his neck. Circle members. 

They stood around them, blades against their neck. Magnus swallowed and exchanged a look with Alec. He couldn’t do anything right now. 

“Come on, queers,” one of the circle members hissed. “Time to go meet your fate.” 

 

\--------------------

 

Valentine stood in the middle of the room, the portal glowing purple behind him. His men had disappeared into the corridors, and it wouldn’t be long until they found Magnus and Alec. Izzy prayed they were actually checking the perimeter, and not doing something else. 

“Clarissa.  So good to see you again,” Valentine said, walking towards Clary. The young woman took a step back. She didn’t have her seraph blade  and she holding the very heavy, very voluminous Book of the White. “Where's your brother?”

“You think I'd tell you?” Clary mocked.

“You won't have to.” he replied.

“Stay away from her!” He was too close. Izzy wanted to do something, but Simon had already lunged forward. She saw how easily Valentine was pushing him away. Simon was only a baby vamp. He was untrained and still didn’t know how to use his vampire powers. He was tossed aside easily.

Valentine turned, standing over his body, his seraph blade ready for the kill. 

“Simon!” Clary exclaimed, and Izzy’s whip cracked through the air. It wrapped around Valentine’s arm. It crackled with electricity, the adamas reacting to the demon blood he had injected himself with, all these years ago. It didn’t seem to have much of an impact on Valentine though. 

He pulled his arm back, and Izzy’s balance was thrown off. She stumbled forward. She landed hard on the marble floor. She turned around, trying to get back on her feet, but he was faster than her. 

She felt the blade sink into her shoulder. She screamed. The pain blinded her. She curled up on herself. Clary’s screams of her name faded into the background. Another voice was screaming her name. Alec. She groaned in pain. Her shoulder hurt so much. She couldn’t get to her stele. It hurt so much, it burnt so much. 

She barely realized what was going on, until she was pulled to her feet by the arm connected to her injured shoulder. She whined loudly in pain. 

“Izzy!” Alec called as he was pulled into the room by one of the Circle members. 

Jace watched as his family was kept hostage. Izzy’s shirt was getting soaked in her blood and she looked like she was going to pass out any second. Alec’s throat was starting to get cut slightly by the blade a Circle member was holding up to it. Clary was staring at them, terrified. Simon and Magnus were held hostage. 

Valentine turned to Jace. “Fight me, and watch your friends die.” he said, simply. “You are strong, but they make you weak. We both know you don’t need them in your life. I’m doing you a favor by offering to actually let them live. It would be so easy to just kill them and take you with me.”

Jace watched him. He knew that Valentine would do it if he wanted to. The fact that it wasn’t…. “You want me to owe you.” 

“Here’s my smart boy.” Valentine smiled, and Jace wanted to kill him. He really wanted to. His fingers were itching to slide his seraph blade across Valentine’s throat and see him die. 

“Let us go. You can have the book. We won't be able to stop you without it.” Clary tried to reason, but Valentine laughed at her desperate attempt at a deal. 

“Ah, Clarissa,” he licked his tongue. “So like your mother. Willing to do anything for those that you love.” In his mouth, it almost sounded like an insult. “I'm touched, but the book was never part of my plan. I want you to wake up your mother. I know that you'll both join me eventually. It's fated.”

Clary’s face radiated disgust as Valentine mocked her attempt at derailing his plan, and turned back towards Jace. 

“You ready?” he asked, and Jace swallowed. He needed to do it. It was the only way. Izzy was going to bleed out, they would murder Simon and Magnus, and maybe even Alec, if he didn’t. And Clary… God knew what Valentine would do to her. Jace was well placed to know that Valentine’s fatherly love wasn’t a warm blanket and hot chocolate.

“If I go with you, promise me you won't hurt them.” He put down his blade. 

“You have my word.” 

Clary took a step forward, towards Jace and Valentine. “This is insane.”

“I'm sorry, Clary.” he whispered, looking away. He couldn’t look at her in the eyes. He couldn’t look at her, as he was preparing to leave her; and the rest of his family, behind. It was the right thing to do. 

“Jace what are you doing? You can't be serious!” Clary begged. He looked away, and looked at Valentine. He needed to harden himself. He couldn’t let her distress make him falter. 

“Let them go,” Valentine ordered. The Circle members did exactly that. 

Izzy crumbled to the floor immediately, the pain and the blood loss keeping her from holding herself up. The second Alec was free, he grabbed his stele and ran to Izzy, activating her iratze and drawing an amissio rune on her. It wouldn’t be enough but it would help. He looked up. Jace was yelling at everyone to get back. 

He stood up and tried walking to him, but he was already walking towards the portal. He looked at them. Clary started running towards the portal. Alec couldn’t stop Jace, but he could stop Clary from killing herself to try and save him. 

He grabbed her as she was running, and she fought back against him, trying to push him back, screaming Jace’s name in vain. 

“What are you doing?!” She screamed, trying to punch at his chest to have him let go of her. 

“Saving your life. If you enter a Portal not knowing where you're going, you'll be stuck in limbo forever.” 

Only then did she stop fighting. The portal closed. Izzy laid on the ground motionless, passed out from the lack of blood and the trauma of the injury. Simon held the Book. Magnus was watching them. And Alec was holding a sobbing Clary. 

 

\-----------------

  
  


Alec carried Izzy to the infirmary, and Clary couldn’t even look at them. She could feel the guilt crawling into her. It was all her fault. Izzy was injured, had almost bled out, because of her, because of her family, and because of her quest to wake her mother up. 

As Hodge was pulled towards the cells, Clary sat down at one of the ops center tables. 

“At least we got Hodge, right?” Simon joked. She didn’t reply anything. She couldn’t even get herself to smile. “Clary?” 

“We have to find Jace,” she said softly. “I can’t leave him alone.” 

“He's tough. He can handle himself. Besides knowing Jace, I give it a week before Valentine's begging us to take him back.” Simon chuckled. 

Clary looked up at him and shook her head. “Simon, not now.” Simon sat down next to her.

“It’s all my fault.” She whispered. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking that. Everything was her fault. Izzy’s injury, Jace being taken by Valentine, Simon being turned into a vampire, even her mom’s coma. Everything was her fault. If only she hadn’t followed Jace into Pandemonium… 

“It’s not. You couldn’t predict that he would hurt Izzy, or that Jace would go with him. You couldn’t predict that Camille was going to Turn me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Clary whispered. “I’m sorry we let Camille escape.” 

Simon shrugged. “It’s okay, i told you. We got the Book. That’s all that matters. Besides, she didn’t even have time to make me sign the Writ. Valentine found us before she could do that.” 

Clary chuckled bitterly. “So everything’s right in the world.” 

Simon gently touched her shoulder, squeezing it. “We'll save him. I may not understand a lot about this world, but… if anything happened to Rebecca, I would do anything in my power to save her.”

Clary sighed and stood up, taking his hand. “Thank you.” 

Simon almost shrugged and looked at her. “It’s nothing. I believe in you. I believe in us.” 

Clary felt tears well up to her eyes. “I love you, Simon.” 

Simon smiled widely, and pulled her in a tight hug. “I love you too, Clary.” 

Clary hugged him back tightly, and smiled. She felt how much he was trying to comfort her. It felt good. Here they were now. Here they were, in their new life. Clary was a Shadowhunter. Simon was a vampire. Izzy was… one of the most beautiful people Clary had ever seen, and someone towards whom she was feeling something stronger and stronger every day. 

And now… Now she was going to wake up her mother.  

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little notes:
> 
> Downworlders use some different terms than Shadowhunters to refer to Shadowhunters and Downworlders:
> 
> \- Shadow People/Shadow Kinds/Shadow Beings are Downworlders  
> \- nephilim is the plural of naphil. One Shadowhunter, One Naphil, Two Shadowhunters, Two Nephilim. the adjectival form is nephili/nephilic
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me. You're awesome. 
> 
> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus!

**Author's Note:**

> If you're in the mood for a chat, you can come shout at me in my inbox on tumblr @enkelimagnus! 
> 
> There's also this little survey, just me wondering about your thoughts and your ideas of the future! All anonymous, of course!   
> https://forms.gle/8TYnepF8AAdLL9Gv5
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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